


Just a Flower Boy

by Larryruinedme



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, F/M, First Time, Fluffy Ending, Harry and Niall and Zayn are besties, Harry is Louis' Cheerleader, Highschool AU, Homophobia, Jealous Louis, Lilo are Besties, Louis Leaves Notes In Harry's Locker, M/M, Openly Gay Harry, Pining, Popular Louis, Possessive Behavior, Smut, Somewhat of a Panty Kink, Unrequited Love, fluff in general, harry wears flower crowns, larry stylinson - Freeform, secret crushes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:19:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 70,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larryruinedme/pseuds/Larryruinedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is a clumsy, flower crown-wearing, openly gay junior with only two true friends, Niall and Zayn. Louis Tomlinson is the school's attractive, straight football captain, with a small body and a big personality. As fate will have it, Harry has a huge, unrequited, utterly hopeless crush on Louis.</p><p>Fate is thrown out the window the day that Harry and Louis find themselves partnered up for a history project. Harry starts to receive notes from a secret admirer, Louis starts to get jealous of Harry's budding friendship with senior Nick Grimshaw, Zayn and Liam develop a thing for each other, and Niall is the best mate anyone could have asked for. And suddenly, Harry's crush on Louis doesn't seem so utterly hopeless anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! So this is the first fic I've ever gone so far as to put it online, all the rest are just sitting in my Google drive untouched oops (Hi). I don't think I'm going to have a schedule for when I update, I'll just do it whenever I feel like it.
> 
> Just to let you know, I'm American, so I'm going to use American highschool terms in here, like 'junior', 'senior', etc. I hope that doesn't confuse some of you guys too much. I also had no idea what to have them learning about, so I just wrote the first thing that came to mind. (:
> 
> Here's a beautifully done [Russian translation](https://ficbook.net/readfic/3616257) for y'all <3
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this fic because I really enjoyed writing it.
> 
> PLEASE READ THIS: This story contains homophobic language and bullying, so if that bothers you at all I'm sorry.

Harry can't remember when it started. The slow fire burning in his chest, the thumping of his heart whenever they're in the same room. The constant butterflies.

Louis.

That name will be the death of him. Every time he hears it, he can't help the small smile that erupts on his face. Just thinking about Louis' feathery, cinnamon-colored hair, and those beautiful, breathtaking blue eyes, sends shivers down Harry's spine.

But it's useless. After all, Harry is only the tall, clumsy flower boy that hangs around in the library too much. Harry is only the curly-haired openly gay boy who cares too much but at the same time not enough. Harry is only the hipster boy who can't stand being without his only friend, a blonde Irish boy called Niall. And Louis is - well, he's Louis. No explanation needed. He's the school's most likable, most fit, most athletic junior, and he seems intent on keeping that title.

Oh, almost forgot - Louis is also straight.

He tends to go home with a different girl after every football game, being the captain and all. Harry assumes that Louis just walks up to the most fit girl who he hasn't fucked yet (and maybe some that he has), and they all go willingly home with him. I mean, who wouldn't.

Harry knows he has no chance, he's not daft. It's just - Louis is so pretty. He's happy and energetic and wonderful, all soft hair and oceanic eyes. His smile lights up the room. So really, Harry never had a choice.

Harry scowls down at his textbook. He's supposed to be reading, but, like usual, his mind has digressed into thoughts of Louis. God, he might be obsessed.

"Styles?"

Harry's head jerks up, so quickly that his blue flower crown goes askew. He fixes it hastily.

"'M sorry, what?" He asks. His teacher looks impatient, maybe because this is the hundredth time (at least) that Harry has been caught staring off into space and disregarding the current lesson.

"I asked what the process in which cells divide is?" The teacher asks briskly.

"It's called, um, it's-" Harry looks desperately at his best mate Niall, who is thankfully sitting next to him. Niall looks back with an apologetic expression, mouthing an 'I dunno, sorry'. Big help, that one is.

The teacher is still waiting, tapping her foot with a raised eyebrow, and Harry can feel his face heating up. He should really pay attention in class instead of fantasizing about the pretty football captain that constantly occupies his thoughts.

Suddenly there's a kick to the back of his shoe. A second later something is pressed into his hand, which is dangling by his side. As nonchalantly as possible, he un-crumples the small piece of paper. He reads the hasty-looking handwriting and looks back up.

"Mitosis," he rasps, his deep voice coming out small and uncertain.

The teacher blinks. "That's correct," she mumbles, seeming almost disappointed that he got it right. She turns to the board, and once she's not looking, Harry turns around.

Sitting behind him is a very attractive boy, with tan skin and raven-colored hair which is shaved on the sides and long on top. His cheekbones could cut bread, and his eyelashes are phenomenal. Harry honestly can't find a single thing wrong with this guy. He's perfect. Harry's surprised he's never seen him before.

"Thanks," Harry whispers, not used to talking to people he doesn't know. Especially attractive boys who sit in the back of class.

"Not a problem," the stranger assures him. "Now, pay attention, because I'm not helping you again."

***

The raven-haired kid's name is Zayn.

Harry found that out after class, when Zayn introduced himself properly. Apparently, Zayn just moved here and doesn't have any friends quite yet. That explains the fact that Harry didn’t recognize him. Zayn even complimented Harry’s flower crown, which surprised Harry a bit but also made him smile.

Too bad Zayn isn’t his type. If he was, Harry might’ve finally found someone to take his mind off of certain feather-haired boys in football jerseys. Oh, well. Harry invites Zayn to hang out with Niall and himself before school tomorrow.

"Sure, thanks," the kid grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. His smile is decidedly dorky, which surprises Harry because he had originally thought Zayn to be the dark and brooding type. He decides that he likes the real Zayn better. "I've got to get to math now, but it was nice meeting you. See you tomorrow?"

Harry nods and gives the boy a smile, and Zayn returns it before walking off down the hallway.

***

"This is going to be a partner project."

Fuck.

Harry's history class cheers, but Harry feels like groaning. Of course, this is one of the few classes that he doesn't have with Niall.

You see, Harry doesn't dislike his classmates. He actually quite likes a lot of them if he’s honest. The problem is that they don't like him. He always struggles through group projects where people are always dumping the most work on him, messing with him, and calling him homophobic names.

People around him are catching their friends' glances, silently agreeing to partner up. Harry slumps in his chair.

"Now, before you go choosing partners," his teacher speaks above the quiet hum of people trying to partner up, "I am choosing your partners for you."

Harry's history class groans, but Harry sits up a little straighter in his seat. This way, he doesn't have to go through the struggle of trying to find someone who's willing to partner with him.

The teacher starts listing off groups of two, some people happy about their partner choices and some physically cringing. Some people smirk when they get partnered with their crush, and some cheer when they're put with their best friend.

Harry's eyes find Louis, who's sitting across the room. He's chatting happily with the people close to him, seeming perfectly at ease. His feathery hair glints with light from the fluorescent fixtures overhead. His smile shows his sharp canines when he laughs. God, he's so fucking pretty-

"Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles."

Honestly, what the fuck.

Harry all but gapes at the teacher, wondering what kind of a terrible thing he did to deserve this type of cruel punishment. The teacher continues listing off names as if she hasn't just ruined Harry's life.

Who gave the teacher the stupid fucking idea to pair them up alphabetically?

How is Harry supposed to do his work when Louis is right there? How is he supposed to talk to him without saying something stupid? And who's to say Louis won't treat him like trash, just like the rest of the popular kids do?

He probably will. Because the truth is, no matter how Harry feels about Louis, Louis probably hates him. Hates him for being gay, hates him for wearing flower crowns, hates him for being unpopular.

"Alright, you're going to be doing a project about how the geography of Ancient Greece affected it's habitants. A slideshow, with at least seven slides, is due next Tuesday. Each slide should have a physical feature, how it affected people, and why. Get with your partners and get started."

Harry stands shakily from his seat and glances over at Louis, who's looking back at him. Harry blushes and looks down. He trains his eyes on his shoes as he drags his feet over to Louis' desk.

"Hey," Louis smiles when Harry pulls up a chair and perches at the corner of Louis' desk.

Harry blushes and looks down at his hands, which are laying numbly in his lap. Wow, this is really happening. He's doing a project with Louis Tomlinson. Okay.

"Hi," he all but whispers.

"So, I was thinking we could start by brainstorming a little," Louis chirps, upbeat as ever. "Like, I know Greece was really mountainous. That made it hard for travel and it meant the communities were isolated. Also it didn't have any major rivers, so they had poor soil and they only grew things like olives and - you alright?"

Harry suddenly realizes that he's been full on gaping at Louis. It's just that - wow. Louis is smart. And pretty. And athletic. And he hasn't made one mean comment towards Harry at all yet. The full package deal. So yeah. Wow.

"'M fine," Harry mumbles.

"Oh, okay. Just making sure," Louis says casually. "So, do you have any ideas?"

Harry shakes his head, eyes still trained on his lap. He doesn't want to say something stupid and make Louis think bad of him, because first impressions are everything.

"Hey," Louis almost whispers, voice sounding more tender than his normal loud Yorkshire accent. He leans down so that he's in Harry's line of vision, looking endearingly up at him. "Why so quiet?"

Harry feels his face heat up. Why is Louis being so nice to him? What?

"Why don't you hate me?" He blurts out. He wants to slap a hand over his mouth, or maybe just slap himself in the face, but he refrains.

"Hate you?" Louis asks. He sounds genuinely confused, and he has the most adorable little crease between his eyebrows. Harry wants to kiss him. "Why would I hate you?"

Harry shrugs. "I don't know," he mumbles. "I guess because..."

He trails off, not wanting to sound pity-seeking and say 'everyone else does'.

"Harry, you've never given me a reason to hate you," Louis states. "Why would I?"

Harry shrugs again. He can feel Louis' concerned gaze on him, but he hides behind a curtain of curls.

After a few beats of silence, Louis shrugs. "Well, I don't hate you. But I do have one question. What's with the flower crowns?"

Oh. Okay. So Louis doesn't like the flower crowns. That's alright. Harry reaches up and lifts the crown of bright blue flowers out of his curly hair, bringing it down to his lap and attempting to conceal it, as if he could make Louis believe it was never there in the first place. He focuses hard on trying to disappear, but it doesn't seem to be working.

"I dunno," Harry whispers.

"No, no, I didn't say to take it off," Louis backtracks. "It's just, like, it's kind of a girly thing to do?"

Harry's face heats up. Fuck. Of course this is happening. The first time he actually talks to Louis, and he finds out that Louis thinks he's girly.

"I don't know," he says again. "I just like them, I guess." He wants desperately to vanish. Sadly, that isn't an option.

"Well, keep doing it, then. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I was just curious. I'm sorry," Louis babbles. He carefully takes the crown from Harry's large hands, and Harry's heart leaps when their fingers brush. Louis' hands are really small and delicate, and Harry kind of wants to press kisses to every single knuckle and bump on his hands until Louis' a giggling mess.

Louis lifts the crown and carefully perches it on Harry's dark curls. "There," he smiles. And if Harry's heart is beating out of his chest, it's not his fault.

"Alright," Louis says, grabbing a pencil and a sheet of paper. "Let's get started."

***

Harry is surprised to discover that working with Louis is... Easy. After Harry discovered that no, Louis doesn't hate him, and no, Louis isn't going to bite his head off, he stopped being shy and just talked. And Louis listened. He didn't scoff at what Harry said, he didn't tell Harry that his ideas were shit, and Harry didn't get a single mean comment from Louis about his sexuality. Things are really looking up for Harry Styles.

After school Harry walks home - his house is only a block away from the school - feeling light and happy, something he hasn't felt in a while.

"Harry!" A voice calls from behind him. Harry turns, hoping to see Louis. He's surprised to see Zayn instead.

"Oh, hey Zayn!" Harry calls back, pausing so that Zayn can catch up.

"Who's your partner for the history project?" Harry asks Zayn as they walk together, because one, Harry is curious, and two, he's got a certain, very attractive history partner occupying a large space in his mind. Sue him.

"Actually, she put me and Niall together," Zayn chirps.

"Oh, you guys are in the same class?" Harry asks.

"Yeah. Was surprised to find out that me and him have four classes together," Zayn says. "So who's your partner?"

"Do you know Louis Tomlinson yet?" Harry asks. He fights back a smile upon staying Louis' name. God, he's so fucked.

"Short? Brown hair? Footy player?" Zayn questions, and of course he would already know who Louis is. Everyone knows who Louis is.

"Yep, that's him," Harry says, gazing ahead.

"You fancy him?" Zayn asks, and Harry abruptly chokes on air.

"W-what?!" He splutters, staring wide-eyed at Zayn.

"Well, your smile a second ago was about to split your face," Zayn notes casually. "So, you fancy him?"

Well. Harry hadn't even noticed that he was smiling.

"Uh," Harry sighs. Zayn's going to find out at some point, might as well just tell him now. "Yeah. I do."

"Oh. Okay," Zayn shrugs.

"You see anyone you like yet?" Harry asks, desperately wanting to change the subject.

"Not yet," Zayn says. "Though, I wasn't really paying attention to anyone, I was too focused on trying to find my next class and stuff."

"Ah," Harry says. "Well, this is my house. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Zayn smiles and nods, continuing to wherever he's going. Harry enters his house.

He collapses on his bed immediately upon entering his room, throwing his bag down on the floor and stripping off his shirt. Clothes are uncomfortable, so what?

Harry smiles, thinking about his time with Louis today. For once he had felt like he actually belonged around someone who wasn't Niall, Gemma, or his mum. Like he wasn't just being an annoying twat the whole time. He almost felt... special. He replays his time with Louis in his head as he closes his eyes. Louis being nice to him, his and Louis' fingers brushing, Louis smiling at him when he said something especially stupid. Louis makes him feel so happy all the time. Harry soon feels his limbs growing heavier, his eyelids drooping, and with one last picture of Louis' beautiful smile flashing through his mind, he falls into a peaceful, happy sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry wakes the next morning to the sound of his phone alarm going off. He forces his heavy eyelids open and stares straight ahead for a while before reaching over and slapping his phone, turning off the alarm successfully on the first try. He’s skilled like that.

God, he's tired. His limbs feel like lead, and he can barely manage to keep his eyes open. He lays miserably in bed for a while, contemplating just skipping altogether, when he remembers Louis, his beautiful history partner who doesn't hate him and isn't a douche either.

He drags himself out of bed.

***

"Harry? Harry!"

Harry turns away from his locker, searching with heavy eyelids for the source of the voice calling him.

And - what?

"Hi Harry," Louis sing-songs.

Why is Louis here? They're only history partners, and that's not until sixth hour. Still, Harry isn't complaining.

"Um. Hi?" Harry says it like a question, wondering why Louis is even talking to him.

"You look tired," Louis comments, reaching up to Harry's face and smoothing out his under-eye bags. Harry's stomach jolts. He can feel his face reddening underneath Louis’ burning touch. Great.

"I am," Harry mumbles dumbly, because how is he even supposed to respond to that?

"Anyway, I just wanted to say that I started our slideshow last night," Louis explains, giving Harry a breathtaking smile.

"Oh, um, thanks," Harry says.

A guy with short, brown hair and amber eyes that remind Harry of a puppy’s walks up to Louis.

"Tommo!" He greets, ruffling Louis' feathery, cinnamon-colored hair.

Louis gives the boy a playful punch in the shoulder, fixing his hair.

"Hi Liam," Louis says. He turns back to Harry, who's face heats up a little bit under Louis' bright blue stare.

"Hi Harry," Liam greets. And - what? Harry's never talked to this boy in his life. How does he know Harry's name?

"Hello," he mumbles back, a bit unsure. "Um. How do you know my name?"

Harry watches as Liam's eyes widen. Okay, that's odd. Harry looks over at Louis and finds him to be staring at the floor, seeming very intent on memorizing the checkerboard pattern of the tiles. Very out of character. What's happening?

"I've just... Seen you around?" Liam tries. Harry makes a mental note that Liam is a bad liar.

"Anyway," Louis interjects, breaking the thick awkwardness that very obviously hangs in the air. "I'll see you during sixth hour, Harry."

Louis gives Harry a small pat on the arm as he walks away. Harry blushes and mumbles a goodbye before turning back to his locker, summoning all his self control not to touch the place Louis had just touched him, to feel the lingering warmth that Louis’ fingers brought to his skin.

***

When Harry enters the history classroom, Louis immediately bounds up to him.

"I like your flowers," he chirps, reaching up to touch the crown of pink flowers adorned on Harry's curls.

Harry's cheeks heat up at the unnecessary contact. He mumbles his thanks and takes his seat.

Ten minutes later they're seated in a separate study corner in the library. Harry can feel Louis' eyes on him, but he doesn't know what to do about it. He wants to ask why Louis is staring at him, but he doesn't want to make anything more awkward than it already is. He chooses to ignore it.

However, after a minute of Louis staring at him, Harry has to speak up.

“What is it?” he asks, turning to a bewildered-looking Louis.

Louis doesn’t answer, just turns back to his computer. He starts typing something, but when Harry looks over he just sees gibberish. Honestly, what is happening?

So Harry turns back to his own computer, getting started at the project at hand.

***

They get almost nothing done.

It’s not like either of them are slackers, but for some reason Louis can’t focus and neither can Harry. Harry mentally blames it on the fact that Louis is sitting only a foot away from him. All of his energy is put into restraining himself from doing something insane, like snogging Louis senseless.

Louis sighs. “Well, that was completely unproductive. We could finish it at mine?”

As the meaning of Louis’ words sink in, Harry’s heart rate speeds up. He can’t believe that he has the chance to be at Louis’ house, in Louis’ _bedroom_.

He manages a “Sure” without his voice breaking, and mentally gives himself a high-five.

“Great. I could just drive you from here?” Louis proposes, and okay. So Louis Tomlinson just offered to drive Harry to his house. From school. This must be a dream.

Harry’s windpipe seems to have closed up, so he just gives Louis a nod and a too-big smile.

***

Harry can’t breathe. Like, he physically cannot summon oxygen into his restricted lungs. It’s a wonder he’s still alive.

He’s in Louis’ bathroom, trying to calm himself down. _Louis’ bathroom_. He’s surprised he hasn’t vomited yet. He fixes up his hair and takes a few deep breaths, then walks out of the bathroom and into Louis’ room.

“Alright Haz?” Louis asks from where he’s lying on his stomach on the bed, stretched out with his laptop in front of him. Harry has to physically pry his eyes away from the ample swell of Louis' phenomenal arse.  God, he’s so fucking hot.

“Haz?” Harry asks, confused by the nickname. What even?

Louis shrugs. “It’s cute.”

Stay calm, Harry.

Harry lets out a small breath and perches on the edge of Louis bed (!!!!) and looks over Louis’ shoulder at the laptop.

“Why is ‘average height of a 17 year old boy’ in your search history?” Harry asks Louis, somewhere between amused and endeared. Louis glares at him. “It’s okay to be short, Louis,” Harry coos.

“I’m not short,” Louis grumbles.

“Louis,” Harry deadpans.

“I’m not!” Louis argues, looking adorably disgruntled. He’s like a tiny, fluffy, adorable hedgehog, Harry thinks. He smiles to himself.

“Just keep telling yourself that,” Harry teases. And are they… flirting? No. They can’t be. Louis doesn’t flirt with boys. Especially not unpopular, clumsy, flower crown-wearing boys.

They get to work on the project, and as Louis talks Harry’s crush grows stronger and stronger. Of course, Harry had known that Louis is hot before, but now he’s discovering just how cute, stubborn, and lovable Louis really is. It’s almost awe-inspiring.

After a few hours of talking, laughing, and a little bit of working, Harry glances over at the clock and sees the time. He shoots up off the bed.

“Fuck, I have to go,” Harry blurts. It’s seven o’clock PM, and Harry’s mum is going to wonder where he is.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Louis says, like a gentleman. Harry smiles gratefully and gives him directions.

On the mostly quiet ride home, the thought pops into Harry’s head that he should ask Louis out. Of course, he wouldn’t phrase it like it was a date, he would make it seem like a bro-pal hangout. But what if Louis rejects him?

And suddenly they’re at Harry’s house, and Harry doesn’t have any more time to contemplate. It’s now or never.

“Uh, Louis?” he asks timidly, stepping out of the car and watching as Louis does too.

“Yeah Harry?” Louis asks, tilting his head to the side in the most adorable way. Harry suddenly looses all of his courage just looking at the beautiful boy in front of him.

“Um, never mind,” Harry bites his lip and turns away, about to just forget about this and enter his house, where he’ll be warm and safe and won’t have to be rejected.

And then there’s a warm hand on his wrist, anchoring him to the spot.

“Haz?”

Louis’ touch is so gentle and warm and lovely, and it gives Harry a small fraction of the confidence he needs. Taking a deep breath, he forces the words out.

“Do you wanna go see the new spiderman film with me?” he asks, looking down at his pigeon-toed feet. His heart is racing in his chest and he bites his lip, suddenly wishing he could disappear. Louis’ answer comes in no time flat.

“No.”

Harry feels his heart physically drop. So that’s it. His answer. Harry doesn’t know why he had ever been so naive to think that Louis would say yes. Louis is a popular bloke with tons of friends and every girl in school wrapped around his finger. Of course he wouldn’t want to go out with Harry. What had Harry been thinking?

“Alright, I’ll just go then-” Harry starts, not meeting Louis’ eyes.

“Because I’ve already seen it twice.”

Harry’s head snaps up in shock, pink flower crown falling off of it’s perch on his curls with the force of it. He doesn’t even bother to pick it up, too absorbed by the words flowing out of Louis’ mouth.

“However, I would love to see that new Disney one with you,” Louis finishes, and Harry is breathless once again.

Louis is smiling at him softly, and he just said yes. To a totally-not-date. With Harry. Holy shit.

“Is that a… a-”

“That is a yes,” Louis clarifies, and Harry could kiss him. Wants to kiss him. Needs to kiss him. He settles for biting his lip to conceal his smile.

“We’ll get that worked out then,” he manages. He turns to leave, but Louis’ burning grip is still on his wrist, preventing him from going anywhere.

“Give me your number.” It’s not a question, as Louis takes out his phone and hands it to Harry so he can type in his phone number. With shaking fingers, Harry types his number in and saves it into Louis’ phone. Once again he turns to leave, but Louis grabs him with a small tsking noise and holds out his hand.

He types his number into Harry’s phone and hands it back.

“I’ll text you later tonight,” Louis winks and climbs back into his car, and Harry finally gets a chance to leave.

Thank god, Harry was about two seconds away from shoving his tongue down Louis’ throat.

***

Only when Harry arrives in his bedroom and flops down on his creaky mattress does he finally realize what he’d been doing for the past few hours.

He had been in Louis Tomlinson’s bedroom, sitting on his bed, exchanging pointless conversation with the boy he’s been crushing on for god knows how long. Louis had been sweet and friendly and lovely and everything Harry could ever ask for.

Harry’s heart stops as he remembers the last few stolen moments on his driveway. Harry had somehow worked up the courage to ask Louis on a not-date, and Louis had said yes. He had said he’d love to. Harry must be dreaming.

Harry’s phone vibrates against his thigh and he pulls it out, expecting a text from Niall. He's is surprised to see a text from Zayn instead.

From Zayn:  
You know Tommo’s friend Liam? We hit it off and he asked my to sit with him and Louis at lunch tomorrow.

Harry smiles, glad that Zayn is making more friends. His phone vibrates again.

From Zayn:  
I won’t sit with them unless you and Niall come too.

Harry’s heart swells with affection for the dark-haired boy, knowing that Zayn probably really wants to sit with Liam. But wait. If Harry sits at Liam’s table, wouldn’t that means sitting with Louis too? His face warms at the thought.

To Zayn:  
Are you sure they want me and Ni there?

From Zayn:  
I asked and Liam said he doesn’t mind. You in or not?

Harry sighs, knowing that saying no would just make him a prick.

To Zayn:  
I’m in

***

Louis never texts or calls him.

Harry knows that he’s probably being creepy, staring at his phone and just waiting for a text from the feather-haired boy, but he can’t help it. And when he doesn’t get anything from Louis, despite the boy’s promises to text or call him, he has to admit defeat.

Louis had most likely only said yes out of pity, and would make some excuse not to go. Harry has seen this too many time before to convince himself otherwise.

He goes to bed with a frown on his face.

***

When lunchtime arrives the next day, Harry realizes that saying yes to a lunch with the popular crew was a terrible idea. He’s standing in the corner of the lunch room, watching as the football players laugh and joke loudly, shoving at each other and talking with their mouths full.

All the kids at the table are exceptionally attractive, and Harry feels insecure just looking at them. How is he ever supposed to try and feel confident around them?

Harry is adjusting his brand new flower crown, a ring of red carnations, when Zayn walks over to him. Zayn, who got accepted by them right away. Zayn, who doesn’t have to worry about not feeling confident, since he’s practically a greek god. Zayn, who doesn’t have people making fun of his sexuality at every chance. Harry is jealous of Zayn. Stupid, pretty, straight Zayn.

“Come on, they’re nicer than they seem,” Zayn assures him. “Let’s just walk over and sit down, and if they give you any shit we’ll leave.”

So Harry allows Zayn to take his arm and lead him over to the table, where Niall is already joking loudly with Liam. Of course, because everyone loves Niall. As soon as Zayn and Harry approach, all eyes zero in on them. Harry shrinks in on himself, not enjoying the attention, and focuses on Zayn’s comforting grip circling his wrist.

“Oy, Zayn!” Liam greets, moving over so there’s room for Zayn to sit down. Zayn sits, and Harry notices how his eyes go kind of soft when he looks at Liam. He’ll investigate more on that later.

“Hi Harry!” Niall says, motioning for Harry to sit down in between him and Liam. Harry squeezes himself in, looking down at his lap and pretending he doesn’t notice everyone’s eyes on him.

A tall kid with dark, neatly quiffed hair speaks first. “Why is he sitting here?”

There’s no rudeness in his tone, he just sounds curious. Nevertheless, Harry feels his face heat up and he desperately wishes disappearing was an option. Sadly, it’s not.

“Harry and Niall are sitting here today if that’s okay,” Zayn answers for him, and Harry is thankful for Zayn’s existence in this universe, even if he’s insanely jealous of him.

The table is silent as everyone mentally criticizes them, and Harry really, really wants to leave. Of course, this is the moment Louis decides to appear. Shit, fuck, unicorn turds, not now. Not when Harry is being silently judged by everyone at the table. Please, please no.

“Hello lads,” he greets. Noticing the uneasy tension around the table, his eyes drift to Niall and Harry.

“Oh,” he says, quieter, “hello Harry.”

“Oy Louis, you’re friends with this fag?” one of Louis’ friends asks, and Harry can’t take it anymore. He hopes Niall and Zayn will forgive him.

“I’m just gonna go,” he whispers and stands up, hastily getting out of his seat and fast-walking out of the cafeteria. He’s holding in tears, why is he holding in tears? He’s not a third grader. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to be here anymore, wants to leave this dumb school with these dumb people.

He’s about to walk out the door, to be set free from this stupid school, when he hears someone calling his name.

“Harry!”

He turns back around and sees Niall and Zayn rushing towards him. Niall envelops him in a tight hug. Zayn stands off to the side, seeming unsure of what to do until Niall pulls him in as well.

“I’m sorry for forcing you to sit there,” Zayn says. His voice is full of regret, and he looks so forlorn that Harry finds it impossible to be mad at him.

“It’s not your fault that those guys are total wankers,” he assures, and Zayn gives him a half-smile.

They all pull away from the hug and Harry gives a shuddery sigh.

“Liam and Louis seem nice, but why are all the rest of them so fucking rude?” Harry asks. He feels so lost, so devastated, and he doesn’t even know why. He’s been insulted by them so many times before, why is this time so much different? Because maybe he thought Louis would defend him? But why would he? Louis is the most popular boy in school, one of the most attractive as well. There’s no way he would choose Harry over anyone else. That kid was right, using such an affronted tone when discussing Harry and Louis’ “friendship”. After all, Louis only said yes to a movie out of pity, never even texted Harry like he’d promised.

“Hazza?”

All three boys hear the voice, and they simultaneously turn to see where it came from.

And standing there, looking small and sad, is-

Is Louis.

Louis Tomlinson is standing down the hall.

“Go away Tomlinson,” Zayn barks, wrapping a protective arm around Harry. Harry looks at Zayn, and sees his face pulled tight in anger. When Harry had told Niall and Zayn about the movie and Louis not texting back this morning, they had both been so angry that Harry was honestly scared for Louis’ life. If fact, he still is.

“It’s okay, Zayn,” Harry mumbles, rubbing Zayn’s back to try and calm him down. Then, louder, he says, “What do you want, Louis?”

“I want to apologize for how mean my friend was to you,” Louis says. “He had no right to say that about you and he was just being an idiot, trying to act cool. I’m really, really sorry.”

And Harry knows what he has to say next. He doesn’t want to, but he can’t be selfish. He has to let Louis know that he’s not obligated to act like a friend out of pity.

“You don’t have to be,” Harry states, the words flowing out of his mouth before he even knows what he’s saying. “I know that you’re friends with him and stuff, and you don’t have to come apologize to me because you feel like it’s the right thing to do. It’s not your fault that he was being a prick anyways.” Harry takes a deep breath. Here comes the hard part. “And I know that you don’t want to be associated with me. You don’t have to pretend to like me, and you didn’t have to say yes to a movie out of pity. Honestly, you’re allowed to say no. It’s fine. You should just go back and sit with your friends.”

His voice breaks on the last sentence, and he knows he’s about to cry. So he turns around and leaves, out the door, away from the horror movie called High School.


	3. Chapter 3

Niall and Zayn try to follow Harry out, but he politely tells them to fuck off. He just wants to be alone.

When he gets home he turns off his phone, not wanting any sort of contact with the outside world. After all, Harry just told his crush since forever to stay away. And Louis will probably listen. Harry collapses onto the couch, closing his eyes and willing himself to calm down. After all, it's not like he ever had a chance with Louis anyway. Louis is so fucking out of his league. He's essentially just saving himself from any further pain.

"Harry? Why are you home so early?"

Harry cracks open his eyes to see his mum staring at him in bewilderment. He sits up from where he's been sprawled out on the couch and promptly bursts into tears.

"Oh, sweetie," his mum coos, immediately hugging him and rubbing his back in a way only a mum can do. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Harry shakes his head. "Maybe later."

"Okay," his mum says. She pulls away from Harry and wipes his tears with her shirtsleeve. "Why don't you just go up in your room and calm down for a little bit?"

Harry nods and climbs up to his room, sniffling and wiping his eyes. He flops on his bed and turns on his phone with the intention of going on social media for a while.

Well, that was a mistake. His notifications explode with missed calls and unanswered texts. His eyes widen, as this might be the most notifications he's ever had.

But wait... All of the notifications except three are from... Louis?

From Louis:  
Harry?

From Louis:  
Harry answer me.

From Louis:  
Hazza please?

From Louis:  
I won't stop until you answer me.

It goes on and on like that, and Harry just can't bring himself to respond. Because of course, of fucking course, now is when Louis chooses to text him. Great. Harry shuts off his phone again and, feeling suddenly exhausted, buries himself under his duvet and slips into peaceful unconsciousness.

***

"Harry? Harry."

Harry groans and turns over in bed, stuffing his face in his pillow.

"Harry Edward Styles. Wake up this instant."

Harry cracks his eyelids open at the mention of his full name and looks up at his mum.

"Can I please stay home today?" Harry asks. He's not quite ready to go back to school yet.

"Only if you promise to tell me what happened yesterday when I get home tonight," his mum says soothingly, petting at his curls.

"Mm. Okay," Harry agrees. He shoves his face in the pillow again and exhales. "Bye, mum."

"Feel better, Harry," his mum coos. She gives his hair one last pat and walks out of the room.

***

Harry wakes up again a few hours later to the sound of his phone ringing. He picks it up without thinking or checking the caller ID.

"Fuck off," he mumbles into it, because the only people who ever call him are Niall and his sister Gemma, who's off at uni.

“Where are you, twat?” comes Niall’s thick Irish accent.

“Decided to stay home today,” Harry answers back.

Niall, ever the easygoing one, just responds, “You shouldv’e told me! I couldv’e ditched with you.”

“Next time, Ni. Now go to class,” Harry says, hanging up.

A few minutes later he gets a call from Zayn.

“Hello,” Harry says upon picking up.

“Where the fuck are you?” Zayn hisses through the phone. His voice is hushed and he sounds like he’s trying not to be heard by anyone.

“Um… home?” Harry responds.

“No shit,” Zayn deadpans. “Why?”

Harry doesn't know what is it that makes him tell the truth. “I just don’t wanna have to face Louis today.”

Silence for a few seconds, then-

“He came up to me and Niall this morning.”

Harry’s heart stops. “What?”

“He was asking where you were,” Zayn sighs. “Was kind of annoying, really, wouldn’t leave us alone until Niall called you and found out you’re skipping.”

Harry forces down the grin that’s attempting to work its way across his face. So maybe Louis does care.

“He texted me like twenty times yesterday,” Harry says, trying not to convey the lightness in his chest with his voice.

“Knew that. He told us that you weren't responding,” Zayn sounds exasperated.

“Yeah…” Harry answers sheepishly.

“Answer him, you twat! Otherwise he’s not going to leave us alone,” Zayn orders.

“Aye aye, captain,” Harry giggles. “Now get back to class.”

***

He doesn't call or text Louis. He doesn't know what’s stopping him, but he guesses it has to do with the fact that he’s still not quite sure whether Louis wants him or not. Despite Zayn’s assurances, he still has a looming heavy feeling in his gut that he always tends to get around those that he doesn't know well, telling him that he’s just being an annoyance.

When his mum comes home that afternoon it’s to find Harry curled up on the couch, watching The X Factor.

“You know, you should try out,” his mum had told him once, about a year ago, when he had recently turned 16.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry had responded. “I’m not gonna be world-famous or something.” And it had been left at that.

His mum walks into her own room and walks out again a few minutes later in baggy sweats and a jumper, a wide contrast to her fancy work clothes.

“So, honey, wanna tell me about what happened yesterday?” she asks, tucking a curl behind Harry’s ear.

Harry takes a deep breath, sits up, and mutes the telly. He looks into his mum’s eyes and sighs.

He recounts the events of yesterday, telling them exactly like they happened. He never keeps secrets from his mum, never saw a reason to, so he tells her all about how the kid called him a fag and how Louis tried to apologize.

“You mean that boy you've had a crush on for years?” his mum asks.

“Yeah, mum, that one,” Harry responds, blushing faintly.

He tells his mum about how he shooed Louis away, and about Louis’ hundreds of texts. He tells her about Zayn and Niall’s calls this morning. When he finally finishes up, his mum sighs.

“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry,” she whispers, pulling Harry into a hug. he buries his face in her neck and wraps his arms around her waist.

“It’s okay, mum,” Harry assures her.

“Now,” his mum says, pulling away from him and looking him in the eyes, a determined look glinting in her own bluish green ones. “From what you've told me, this Louis boy seems to care about you a lot more than you’re willing to believe. I’m not saying he’s completely smitten or something, but don’t underestimate yourself, okay?”

Harry nods and smiles at his mum’s praise. “Okay, mum.”

***

School is nothing short of hectic the next day.

It’s a Friday, and school is always crazy on Fridays, but this day is even worse than normal for Harry. As soon as he walks into school, he gets tackled by an energetic Irish boy.

“Harry, you’re back!” Niall exclaims, removing Harry’s daisy flower crown and placing it on his own head.

“Hey, Harry,” Zayn appears, thumping Harry on the back.

He doesn't know why, but Harry is overcome with a sudden surge of affection towards his friends. He wraps an arm around each of them and squeezes.

Niall places the flower crown back on Harry’s curls. “Have a nice bum day yesterday?”

“Was great,” Harry says sarcastically.

He walks with Niall and Zayn to his locker, his friends recounting what happened while he was gone. Harry laughs when they tell him about how after Harry left, Niall walked back into the cafeteria and “accidentally” splattered spaghetti all over the front of the mean kid’s shirt.

“You should’ve seen his face!” Niall cackles, trying to recreate the kid’s horrified expression. "He deserved it too, calling you names and shit."

After Harry does his combination and pulls his locker open, he sees a movement out of the corner of his eye. Looking down, he sees a folded piece of paper flutter to the ground. He picks it up and unfolds it.

 _Harry_ , he reads, _you should smile more. Your smile is gorgeous. Yours, A Secret Admirer._

Harry stares at the piece of crumpled paper in his hand. His heart flutters a little bit as he rereads the untidy scrawl over and over again, wondering if it’s a joke. Honestly, though, he doesn't care. The letter makes him happy.

“What’s that, mate?” Niall’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts as he leans over Harry's shoulder to read it. Zayn mirrors the movement, and all is silent for a moment until-

“Bro!” exclaims Zayn, at the same time Niall says, “Dude!”

“You've got a secret admirer, lad!” Niall exclaims, thumping Harry on the back and making him stumble a bit.

“Who could it be, though?” Zayn asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Does it matter?” Niall responds. “Let me read it again!”

***

Harry keeps reading the note over and over throughout the day, smiling a bit every time. His heart expands even more when he realizes that someone took time to do this, to write Harry a sweet note. Why, he’ll never know, but he honestly doesn't care.

When he walks into history that day he feels lighter than he has in a while, and he can’t help the small smile on his face.

That is, until he sees Louis.

Louis isn’t talking to anyone like he usually is, just sitting in his seat and staring at his desk. He looks nervous, but Harry can’t imagine why. He doesn't know what makes him do it, but Harry approaches him.

“Hi, Louis,” he mumbles timidly. “I’m sorry for not answering any of your texts.”

Louis’ sparkling blue eyes rise to meet Harry’s green ones, and Harry’s stomach bubbles because Louis is so, so fucking beautiful.

“It’s okay, Haz,” Louis assures him with a small smile. He still looks nervous and it’s starting to concern Harry a little bit.

“You okay?” Harry asks.

“I’m fine,” Louis responds. “Are you okay?”

“I’m actually feeling pretty good today,” Harry answers and gives Louis a big grin.

“What’s made you so happy?” Louis asks, ghost of a seemingly helpless grin flitting across his own features.

“Um… nothing,” Harry responds, and his hand flies subconsciously to his pocket, where the anonymous note is resting. He bites his cheek to conceal a smile just thinking about the short but sweet message.

When the bell rings and everyone goes to sit in their respective chairs, Harry waves a small, timid goodbye to Louis and shuffles off to his own seat.

His phone buzzes while the teacher is calling attendance. He subtly pulls in out and looks at the screen, where he has a text from Louis. His heart jumps into his throat.

From Louis:  
You never got back to me about seeing a movie.

Harry blushes and sneaks a glance at Louis, who’s already looking at him from across the room. He shoots Louis a bewildered look, because no, Louis was supposed to text him about it. He types out an answer.

To Louis:  
You said you would text me about it, but you didn’t so I thought that meant you didn’t want to go

He glances over at Louis and watches as he reads the text, then sees Louis bite his lip and type out a response. Louis then looks up from his phone, and Harry sees him mouth ‘sorry!’ as his own phone vibrates.

From Louis:  
Oh my god I’m so sorry, I thought I had told /you/ to text /me/ about it!! my bad, I’m so sorry :(

Harry’s heart swells and he smiles as bright as the sun. Louis _does_ wanna go. Louis _does_ care. Harry feels like he can’t breathe around the bubble of sheer happiness filling his stomach.

To Louis:  
Oh. I thought you just didn’t want to go, sorry!

From Louis:  
Look at me.

Harry glances up from his phone and his eyes find Louis. Louis is pulling a face that screams “are you fucking serious??”. Harry bites the inside of his cheek to stop from grinning and looks back at his phone, typing out another text.

To Louis:  
Sorry. Anyway, when do you wanna go? x

He stares at the “x” for a few seconds, contemplating. He sends that to all the people he texts (granted, it’s not that many people), but Louis… Louis is different. Louis isn’t just some random person Harry’s texting. Louis is special. Louis is… Louis.

He sucks it up and sends it, deciding that he’s just overthinking.

From Louis:  
I don’t care, just not tonight because I’ve got footy (: x

Harry smiles at the text, because the wording is cute and Louis is cute and Harry is just so far gone.

To Louis:  
Wasn’t planning on doing it tonight anyway. a little excited, are we? ha, kidding. anyway, I’ll look at the times for this weekend? x

He looks at Louis as Louis reads the text. A couple seconds pass until Louis looks up, gives a cute, sharp-toothed smile, and holds up a tiny, delicate thumb. Harry wants to tuck him into bed, kiss his forehead, and read him a bedtime story that rhymes and has a cheesy ending.

 

***

 

That night Harry is making dinner when he hears the door open. A minute later, Anne walks through the doorway to the kitchen, sighing and running a hand over her face.

“Long day?” Harry asks, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I made waffles for dinner, and I can make you tea if you want.”

His mum stares at him, seemingly bewildered. Harry smiles back at her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks her, taking a warm waffle out of the waffle maker and placing it on a plate.

“What made you so bright and sunshine-y?” Harry’s mum asks by way of an answer. She still looks bewildered, but now a bit of amusement is creeping into her tired eyes.

“Mum. Mum, mum, mum, you won’t believe this,” Harry babbles, smiling bigger than ever. He’s practically jumping on the spot with excitement.

“Well, don’t tell me or anything,” Anne states sarcastically. She crosses her arms and leans on the counter in a way that says she’s ready for whatever exciting story her son has coming for her.

“Alright. So,” Harry beams, not quite sure how to say it now that the time comes. “Well, you know how I thought that Louis only said yes to a movie out of pity?” he doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “well, today during social studies he told me that he thought _I_ was supposed to text _him_ , and it was all a misunderstanding. He thought I changed my mind about it! Anyway, he said he wants to go see it this weekend.”

His mum just stands there for a second before smiling. “Oh, my baby boy, I’m so proud of you.”

She pulls Harry into a tight, motherly hug and squeezes him. Harry just smiles big and hugs her back, thinking yeah, maybe he could get used to moments like this.

He goes to bed with a smile on his face, finally understanding why everyone loves Fridays so much.

***

To Louis:  
Fuck.

Harry sits and stares at his phone, at the message he just sent Louis.

All the Frozen showings for this weekend are sold out.

From Louis:  
What is it Hazza? are you okay?

Harry sighs and starts typing his answer, fingers feeling stuck, unwilling to type. This means that they aren’t going to the movies. This means Harry doesn’t get to see Louis until Monday. This means that, unless Harry somehow gathers his courage again some other time, he’ll never get the chance to go out with Louis again, date or not.

To Louis:  
I’m fine. Frozen is sold out all weekend. sorry. x

Harry sighs again and turns off his phone. He drops it to the ground and leans his head back against the headboard, pitying himself. He hears his phone buzz and ignores it.

Until it buzzes again.

And again.

He picks it up, wondering what’s so important.

From Louis:  
That’s okay (:

From Louis:  
We could just go see something else

From Louis:  
If you want that is .x

Harry’s face cracks into a wide smile. Louis fucking Tomlinson is so lovely it hurts. Lord help Harry because he’s about to die from cuteness.

To Louis:  
That sounds great. what did you want to see instead? (:

Louis' response is immediate.

From Louis:  
Please don’t judge me

From Louis:  
Can we go see the fault in our stars? everybodys saying its really good and I wanna see whats so great

Harry’s impossibly large grin grows. Louis is literally so adorable it hurts. Not to mention Harry’s been wanting to see The Fault In Our Stars for ages, and neither Niall nor Zayn will go with him.

To Louis:  
Sounds great. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been wanting to see it for ages. x

From Louis:  
Oh thank god same

Harry feels the most odd feeling in his chest, like his heart is expanding and his ribs are gonna break any second. He practically feels his own face light up, and his smile is reducing his eyes to slits. He really fucking needs help.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry is panicking.

He keeps reading Louis’ text, over and over again.

From Louis:  
theres a show at 2 and you don’t get a choice, we’re going then (:

It’s currently 1:45.

Harry’s eyes dart around the room, down at his almost-naked body, and then to his still-lit phone screen. He’s got 15 minutes. That's not long enough for a shower. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He tosses his phone down at the bed and throws open his closet, just standing there staring at his choices for about a minute before remembering that, oh yeah, he has about 13 minutes to get clothes and tame his nest of curls before going on a date with Louis.

Wait, no.

He’s not going on a date with Louis, he’s platonically hanging out with his bro-pal. Right.

Still. What is he supposed to wear?

It takes him what feels like 10 years to finally decide on what he thinks is an acceptable outfit. He slips on a pair of ridiculously tight, faded black skinny jeans. He also throws on a loose black button-up that he unbuttons about a third of the way down so that it doesn’t seem like he’s trying too hard. See? He’s smart.

He’s just stepping into the bathroom and bracing himself to attack the bee’s nest on his head when the doorbell rings.

Fuck, shit, fuck.

He looks around frantically before spotting a faded grey beanie on his floor. He slips it on and glances in the mirror, rushing to fix the tangle of curls that makes up his fringe when he hears a knock at his bedroom door.

“Harry?” comes a familiar high-pitched voice. Harry’s mum must’ve let Louis into the house. “Are you decent?”

 _No_ , Harry thinks. _I’ll never feel decent when I’m around someone as effortlessly gorgeous as you._

“Yes,” he squeaks out instead.

The door opens to reveal a very cuddly-looking Louis. He’s dressed in a large, warm-looking knitted grey jumper and a pair of tight joggers. He also has a beanie pulled down over his soft hair. Harry almost collapses with the sudden urge to wrap his arms tight around Louis and never let go.

“Hello Harry,” Louis sing-songs, smiling brightly at Harry. His gorgeous eyes crinkle at the corners and god, he’s just _so fucking cute._

“Um,” Harry rasps eloquently, clearing his throat and bushing. “Hi.”

“You’re looking rather dashing,” Louis declares playfully, motioning to Harry’s choice of clothing. Harry really needs to get his blushing problem under control.

“Oh, um, thanks,” Harry mumbles. “You too?”

He doesn’t know why it comes out as a question. He guesses it’s because it’s kind of hard to talk properly when Louis is just standing there, in his bedroom, looking all cute and soft and cuddly. So, really, it’s not his fault.

“What?” Louis snorts. “Are you serious? You’re wearing jeans and a nice top and I’m over here in a jumper and trackies. I feel so underdressed.”

“Well, I mean, I think you look good in anything,” Harry blurts, and no.

No, no, no, no, no. He did _not_ just say that out loud.

It’s silent for a few moments, and Harry can feel himself flush all the way down his chest. Fuck, shit, where has his brain-to-mouth filter gone? Probably right out the window, along with his sanity and his ability to speak properly around Louis.

Finally, fucking finally, Louis laughs softly.

“You flatter me, Harry,” he chortles. “Anyway, we ready to go?”

Harry glances into the mirror one last time, smoothing out his shirt.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Let’s go.”

Louis gives him one last dazzling smile before spinning on his heel and skipping off down the hallway cheerfully, and wow. He has a nice bum. Like, Louis has a _really_ nice bum. Harry wants to grab it.

Alright. Chill out Styles. Today, you and Louis are just bros. Pals. Mates. Take your sexual fantasies about him and shove them up your ass (heh).

It’s going to be a long few hours.

***

“Alright, mum, we’re leaving!” Harry calls to Anne as he slips his old, ratty brown boots onto his large feet.The boots don’t match his outfit, shit.

Ugh, whatever. Harry needs to learn to chill. Louis' practically in his pyjamas after all.

“Wait! Can I talk to you in here real quick, pumpkin?” Anne calls from the kitchen, poking her head out of the doorway and beckoning Harry over. Harry blushes at the embarrassing name his mum used. He’s seventeen, when will his mum stop calling him baby names?

“I’ll wait in the car,” Louis tells Harry, then adds in a whisper, “ _pumpkin_.”

Harry blushes even more than before, if that’s even possible.

“What is it, mum?” Harry asks, sauntering over to where his mum is looking mischievously at him.

“Are you sure he’s not gay?” Anne asks, right to the point as always.

“What?” Harry all but shrieks. “Yes, I’m sure!”

“Really? He kind of gives off that vibe, you know?”

“What vibe?”

“The gay vibe.”

Harry shakes his head at his mum. As much as he wants to believe it, he knows that Louis isn’t gay. He can’t even count the number of times he’s overheard girls in the school hallway talking about how Louis was “totally flirting with them” and how he “was practically begging them to fuck him”.

“No, mum. He’s straight. He’s practically… done stuff with the entire cheerleading team,” Harry responds firmly. He just really doesn’t want to say ‘fucked’ in front of his mother. It would feel weird.

“Okay,” Anne sighs. “Have fun, baby. Don’t get into too many antics at the back of that movie theater.” She winks obnoxiously.

“Nope! I’m leaving now! Bye, mum!” Harry yells, turning away from his embarrassing mother and finally walking out of the house.

He shuts the door to the house and just stands there for a second, breathing, preparing himself for a few hours with his beautiful crush.

Louis honks the horn of the car, loud, stirring Harry out of his thoughts. He jumps a little, whispering “holy fucking shit” under his breath.

He fast-walks over to the car and climbs in on the passenger side.

“Sorry, mum just wanted to ask me something,” Harry explains, even though Louis probably doesn’t care.

“That’s quite alright,” Louis responds, starting to back out of the driveway. He looks over his shoulder as he does so, tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration. He’s so adorable. Harry might explode.

What follows is a mildly awkward silence. Louis’ fingers drum on the steering wheel as he drives, and it has somewhat of a calming effect on Harry. He doesn't know why.

“So, no flowers today, eh, Curly?” Louis asks out of nowhere. And - Curly.

“Um,” Harry stutters, “no, I guess?”

“Shame,” Louis shakes his head. “I think the flower boy thing you’ve got going on is rather cute.”

Harry blushes down to the tips of his toes. Louis thinks he’s… cute?

No. No no no. Louis thinks his whole “flower boy thing” is cute. Not Harry himself. Because, essentially, that’s all Harry is. Just a flower boy. He’s definitely not the type of person Louis would think of as cute.

And, he still hasn’t responded to Louis.

“Oh,” his voice comes out an octave higher than usual. Hopefully Louis doesn’t notice. “Thank you. A lot of people think it’s dumb and girly.”

He’s just trying to make conversation. So what if it’s about his sorry excuse for a social status.

“Nonsense,” Louis tuts. “I’ve heard a bunch of the girls at school talking about how they think you’re super cute.”

Harry does not give a single fuck about the girls at school. He’s interested in guys. Especially boys with feathery hair and crystal blue eyes that are named Louis.

“Louis,” Harry asserts, “I don’t even… like… girls.”

He doesn’t know why he has a hard time getting the words out, he’s said them before about a million times. Maybe it’s because he saying these words to Louis, and Louis’ opinion matters so much more than everyone else’s.

Admitting that fact to himself, even though he only says it in his head, makes Harry feel weak and wimpy. Which, funny, that's exactly how Louis makes him feel. In the best possible way, of course.

Louis laughs. “I know that, I’m just saying that not everyone thinks the flower thing is stupid. It’s really only the guys who say things like ‘no homo bro’ when they accidentally bump into another dude.”

“And you’re not one of those guys?” Harry asks. Maybe he’s being kind of to-the-point about this, but he had already classified Louis as one of those guys a long time ago. That’s why his crush on the boy seemed so utterly hopeless.

“No!” Louis laughs again, and Harry thinks he might just have to say stupid things for the rest of his life if it’ll get Louis to laugh like this. He just looks so beautiful when he laughs. “Harry, why would I be here right now if I hated gay people?”

Okay, that was a little, tiny bit reassuring.

“Oh,” Harry mumbles. “Um…”

And he can’t help it, Harry cracks a little smile as well. He’s glad Louis accepts him as he is, even if Louis isn’t and will never be gay.

“Oh, hey, we’re here!” Louis whoops, parking his car in the parking lot and hopping out. He skitters around the car and pulls the door open for Harry, which, okay. That’s kind of a date-type thing to do. Harry internally scoffs at himself. _Don’t flatter yourself, Styles._

“Thank you,” he says as he climbs out of the car door, Louis closing it behind him.

Louis locks the car door and skips up next to Harry, setting a light hand on his upper arm. Harry feels the spot of contact erupt with heat and an odd, tingly feeling. He’s so fucked.

“Let’s go!” Louis cheers, skipping into the theater and pulling Harry along with him. For a seventeen year old boy, Louis sure is energetic and cheerful. Harry thinks that’s lovely.

“Want to get food? Or should we get drinks? What do you want, Hazza?” Louis fires at Harry.

“Um,” Harry ponders, not wanting to be the one to make these choices. “How about I’ll buy our tickets and you buy whatever food you want?”

“Okay,” Louis nods enthusiastically.

Harry walks over to the ticket booth, waiting for Louis to let go of his arm and go off to get some food. However, Louis just stays there, his warm hand and gentle touch sending sparks over Harry’s skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Um, two for The Fault In Our Stars please,” Harry declares to the pretty girl at the ticket booth. She’s about their age, give or take a few years.

“Oh, will that be all?” she asks, blinking up at Harry in a flirtatious manner. She doesn't even acknowledge the smaller boy next to Harry.

“Yeah,” he responds. He wants to add ‘and oh, by the way, I like boys so you can stop adjusting your shirt like that’, but he resists the urge.

Louis’ touch is starting to dig into his arm a little bit, and he looks down at Louis quizzically. Louis is staring at the girl in front of them, and oh yeah. Boobs are attractive to some people.

And Harry knows he has no right, he knows Louis isn’t his property, but nevertheless, he’s insanely jealous. Not only of this girl, but of the entire female population that gets to receive Louis' lust and attention.

“Louis, you wanna get the food now?” Harry asks, partly because that was their plan and mostly because he wants Louis’ eyes off that girl.

Louis looks up at him and smiles. “Sure.” And with that, he traipses off to the food counter.

As he leaves, his hand trails down Harry’s arm, briefly touching his wrist, and then he’s gone.

“Here’s your tickets,” the girl tells Harry, shoving them into his hands with somewhat of a reproachful look. What did Harry do to deserve that look? Just a second ago she had been batting her eyelashes and showing off her cleavage, stare directed completely at Harry, and now she’s shoving tickets into his hand and grumbling, “theater nine on the left”. Weird.

Harry walks over to the food counter and stands next to Louis in line. Louis doesn’t notice him at first, and no, that’s not right. Louis is supposed to be paying attention to him. So he pokes Louis in the arm, lightly, just enough for Louis to feel the touch.

“Oh,” Louis jumps, “I’m sor- Hazza!”

“You thought I was someone else?” Harry asks, smirking. He’s glad that he feels more comfortable around Louis now, like he can finally speak without being afraid of what stupid things he might say.

“Yeah, but I’m glad it’s you, because I didn’t know if we should get two small buckets of popcorn or one big one to share?” Louis ponders, hands fidgeting with the hem of his jumper as he thinks.

The thought of sharing food with Louis makes Harry’s heart flutter. _Shut up_ , he tells himself, _this is not a date._

“Your choice,” Harry manages, not making eye contact with Louis in case his eyes convey his thoughts.

“Well, it’s cheaper to share, so…” Louis looks up at Harry and flashes a dangerously adorable smile.

“Sounds fine,” Harry answers, not wanting to sound too eager. Inside, though, he’s squealing like a little girl.

They approach the counter, where a very attractive boy who looks a little older than them is handing a drink to a little girl. Harry notices he’s wearing a LGBT pride shirt, which makes him smile. The guy is wearing tight blue jeans, his hair quiffed up and wow. He’s really cute.

“I like your shirt,” he complements upon reaching the front of the line, making sure his dimples are popping out as he smiles. Hey, if Louis is allowed to stare at girls, Harry’s allowed to flirt with guys.

“Thanks, I like your face,” the guy responds, making Harry giggle and blush. This guy's voice sounds familiar for some reason, but Harry doesn’t pay much of a mind to it. The guy grins in a dorky way. Harry thinks he’s cute, but nowhere near as adorable as Louis. And, since when has he done that? Judging how cute people are compared to Louis? Harry's mind is just one big jumble of LouisLouisLouis.

“Hey, you go to my school, don’t you?” the guy asks, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re that one kid who wears flowers. I’ve seen you around.”

Harry stares at him for a moment before it dawns on him.

“Oh, you’re Nick Grimshaw!” he exclaims, pointing at Nick and smiling. “You’re the guy who runs the school’s radio show on Mondays! I always listen to the show, I thought I recognized your voice.”

“Thanks man. I’m actually graduating this year so I’ve been trying to find a youngster to recruit, interested?”

Harry feels Louis' grip on his arm once again, and oh yeah. They’re supposed to be getting food.

“Maybe, I’ll find you on Monday with my answer,” he responds. “Now, can we get one large popcorn and two medium drinks?”

“Sure thing,” Nick affirms, smiling again. He gets their food and places it in front of them. Harry reaches for his wallet, ready to pay, but Louis slaps his hand away.

“I’m paying, remember?” Louis grins, taking out his own wallet and handing Nick some money.

After giving Louis back his change, Nick directs his attention once again to Harry. “Find me before school on Monday about the radio show, if you say yes we’ll have a few sessions a week after school where I can show you how to work the equipment and shit.”

“Sounds fantastic,” Harry responds, flashing another smile.

“When you two have quite finished,” Louis says loudly, staring straight at Nick.

“Alright, let’s go Lou,” Harry’s not sure where the nickname came from. He doesn’t care, because it makes Louis look up at him and smile. Harry waves a final goodbye to Nick and walks off to their theater with Louis still attached to his arm.

“Are you really going to do the radio thingy with Grimshaw?” Louis asks as they walk up the steps inside the theater. Harry attempts to enter a row about halfway up the steps, but Louis drags him all the way to the back and sits him down there instead. This is looking more and more like a date.

It isn’t until they’re comfortable in their seats that Harry answers Louis’ question.

“I mean, yeah, probably,” he responds. He Looks at Louis even though Louis is looking at the movie screen in front of them, which is only playing previews at the moment. “It sounds fun, and like, he seems nice.”

“So you’re only doing it because of Grimshaw?” Louis asks, still not looking at Harry.

“I mean, that’s part of it I guess,” Harry answers. Then, extremely quietly, he adds, “He’s kind of cute.”

He blushes, not used to admitting boys are cute out loud. It kind of feels good, but he’s kind of scared that Louis will think he’s a freak or something.

A few seconds of silence pass, and Harry can feel the nerves mounting. This is it, he blew it, he’s fucked up before the movie even started.

“He’s not that attractive,” Louis finally mumbles.

“Maybe not to you, you like girls.” Saying the words hurts Harry a tiny bit. It’s like a reality check to say them out loud, but he’s being honest. It’s a known fact that Louis likes girls, and that won’t change.

“True,” Louis says quietly, almost inaudible.

They’re silent for the rest of the previews, and when the lights finally start to dim Harry feels Louis’ arm snake back through his, resting his hand on the inside of Harry's elbow. He looks over at the small boy, who is watching the movie screen excitedly, and he's overwhelmed with the want to squeeze Louis and tickle Louis and bury his head in Louis’ neck and leave tiny kisses there while Louis holds him tight. The feeling is almost like being dragged underwater, to the point where Harry can barely breathe.

He forces himself to look away.

***

The movie is great, and Harry finds himself getting rather attached to the characters and their families. And god, he really wants Hazel and Gus to make out already.

As he watches Hazel, Gus, and Van Houten’s assistant walk through the museum, he reaches blindly over to where the bucket of popcorn is sitting in Louis’ lap. He feels his hand brush something warm.

Harry rips his gaze from the movie screen to see that him and Louis had reached for the popcorn at the exact same time, hands brushing in the process. Harry blushes and smiles a bit, Louis smiling back somewhat shyly. And, wow, when did Harry's life become such a cliche? Harry withdraws his hand and focuses back on the screen in front of them just in time to see Hazel and Augustus finally kiss.

“Yes!” he hisses under his breath. “Fucking finally.”

Louis giggles beside him. Fucking _giggles_.

Harry looks over to see Louis already looking back at him with a tiny smile on his face. Harry feels himself blush, the color thankfully hidden by the shadows of the movie theater. He gives Louis an embarrassed half-smile and looks back at the screen.

A moment later, he feels something warm and soft settle on his shoulder, and his heart jumps. He knows it’s Louis. He knows Louis is resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. And it scares the living shit out of him.

He’s too scared to turn his head and look at Louis, too scared to move at all, so he just stares straight ahead and giggles a little as Hazel’s shirt gets stuck on her cannula.

Louis stays there, rested on Harry’s shoulder, for a long time. Every time he fidgets he reminds Harry that Louis is very much there, and this is very much happening, and it sends Harry’s heart beat racing over and over again.

And then the pre-funeral comes.

Harry has not read the books, nor has anyone warned him that this scene exists, so he’s not at all prepared for the part when Isaac stands behind the podium to begin his speech.

He doesn’t want to cry, he really doesn’t, especially not with Louis so very close to him. And he’s doing a pretty good job of this until Hazel is about halfway through her own speech, and then a tear escapes his eye. Fuck, no. He hesitantly brings his left arm - the one currently unoccupied by Louis - up to wipe it away.

But after that first tear escapes they just keep coming. And then he lets out an accidental sniffle, which makes Louis glance up at him.

Harry doesn’t look at Louis, doesn’t want to see the boy’s reaction to him crying over a dumb movie. So he just stares straight ahead and wipes his eyes, pretending he doesn’t notice his crush looking at him.

He flinches when he feels Louis’ warm fingers touch gently near his eyes. And suddenly Louis is wiping his fucking tears away, which just makes him cry a little bit more, because holy fucking shit this is actually happening.

Finally Harry gives in and looks down at the cuddly, beautiful boy next to him. He lets out a nearly inaudible gasp.

Louis is crying too.

Louis gives Harry a tiny, wet smile and sniffs. Harry returns it and before he knows what he’s doing, reaches over and rubs a few circles into Louis’ back. Louis freezes up. Shit.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes immediately, retreating his hand and feeling foolish and embarrassed.

Louis just shakes his head and grabs Harry’s hand, maneuvering Harry’s arm around his own shoulder and cuddling into Harry’s side.

And honestly, what the fuck is happening.

Harry watches as Louis turns back to the movie screen, light from the film reflecting off of the wet spots on his tear-stained cheeks. And Harry is pummeled with a sudden realization.

As he looks down at the beautiful boy cuddling into his side, with his fluffy hair and his small body and his bright, lovely personality, Harry realizes.

He doesn’t like Louis, no.

He fucking loves Louis.

He doesn’t know how to explain the feeling. The feeling of his stomach flip-flopping and his heart racing. The feeling of every nerve in his body tingling hyper-sensitively. He almost feels like he’s floating, not even on this earth. All of the different, unusual emotions Harry's been feeling today finally make sense. And he knows, even as young as he is, that this is what love feels like.

He’s seventeen, and he’s fallen in love.

And it’s fucking terrifying.


	5. Chapter 5

Louis and Harry spend the rest of the movie in silence, but Louis has stopped fidgeting all the time and instead settles for sniffling every once in a while and wiping his eyes. Harry spends the rest of the movie scared as hell of his own feelings.

Holy shit, he’s in love with a straight boy who’s way out of Harry’s league and will never love him back. Why must the world be so cruel to poor Harry?

When Hazel is at Augustus’ funeral, Harry manages to hold in his tears because most of his mind is pre-occupied with his newly discovered love for Louis. God, it gets scarier every time he thinks about it.

Louis, on the other hand, sniffles more than ever and burrows further into Harry’s side, which. Friends can cuddle too, right? Of course. Harry cuddles with Niall all the time. So Harry's heart rate can just calm the fuck down.

When the movie ends and the credits roll Louis sits up and stretches, sighing happily as he does so. Harry does the same, standing up and stretching his legs out, trying not to think too much.

They throw away their empty cups and the empty popcorn bucket before walking out to Louis’ car in silence.

“Alright, we are never talking about this,” Louis commands as he's pulling out of the parking lot. Harry’s heart drops.

“About what?” he whispers hesitantly. _Please don’t say the fact that we cuddled. Please don't say the fact that we saw a movie together._ The last thing Harry wants is for Louis to be ashamed of their maybe-possibly-friendship. It would be like a punch in the face.

“The fact that I cried in front of you, of course,” Louis assures. Harry wants to breathe out a sigh of relief.

“So what? I cried in front of you,” Harry teases. “Embrace it, Louis. Embrace your non-manlyhood.”

“What are you talking about?” Louis scoffs. “I’m super manly.” He flexes his muscles and pulls a 'manly' face, making Harry giggle.

“So manly,” Harry teases, and he's ridiculously happy that he can be himself around Louis. It’s an amazing feeling.

***

  
“Here we are, right?” Louis asks as they arrive back at Harry’s house. Funny, Harry doesn’t want to leave. _Shut up_ , he tells himself.

“Yep,” Harry affirms, nodding reluctantly.

“Should I… walk you to the door?” Louis asks. Harry’s heart skips a beat because that’s something you do at the end of a date.

But this isn’t a date, right?

Harry should stop thinking. He nods, not trusting his mouth at the moment.

Louis and Harry exit the car at the same time, and Harry leads the way to the front door.

When they get to the front porch Harry turns to Louis, not quite sure what to do. This is usually the part when you kiss the person you just went on a date with, but this wasn’t a date.

“So, um…” Harry giggles at his own awkwardness. “Thanks.”

“What are you thanking me for?” Louis asks, smiling a little bit as well. His blue eyes sparkle in the mid-November light outside, and he looks so pretty. So pretty, in fact, that Harry almost forgets to respond.

“Uh… I don’t know,” he blushes, looking at the ground, ability to speak lost in the gorgeous blue of Louis’ eyes and the gentle flip of his feathery hair.

Louis giggles at him. “Are you always this awkward?”

Harry’s face colors once again. He’s making a fool of himself. “Kind of, yeah. I think I’m gonna go inside before I embarrass myself more.”

He gives Louis a smile and turns to walk through the door, but Louis makes an indignant noise.

“Harry,” he says.

“What?” Harry asks, turning back to Louis.

He giggles when his eyes come to rest upon Louis.

The small, cuddly boy is standing there, arms held out wide, an expectant look on his face.

“Come on,” Louis urges, opening and closing his hands and reaching for Harry.

Harry scoffs, rolling his eyes, attempting to look like this isn’t the best moment of his life. He steps forward and wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, feels Louis’ arms come up around his neck. And, maybe it’s creepy, but Harry can’t help but realize how good Louis smells. Like peaches and cream and just _Louis._

He also realizes how amazing it feels to have Louis held in his arms. And it’s cheesy as hell, but Harry can’t help but think that he and Louis fit, Harry’s large frame and gangly limbs with Louis’ small body and muscular frame. Harry thinks this might be what people mean when they say “opposites attract”. Maybe that was a bad simile. If that even was a simile. He was never good at English anyway.

When Harry and Louis pull away after a few seconds, Harry immediately misses the feeling of Louis’ warm body in his arms. What a cliche. Harry doesn’t care.

“See you on Monday, Hazza,” Louis states, winking and walking back to his car.

Harry has to make sure the smile is gone from his face before opening the door.

When Harry goes inside, his mum bombards him with questions, asking everything from ‘was it good’ to ‘did you use protection’. (Harry blushes really hard at that question, but he’ll never tell anyone).

“Mum!” he whines. “We didn’t even do that! It was just two friends going out to a movie.”

His mum rolls her eyes. “Fine. Did anything special happen?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. Since when was his mum a teenage girl looking for the newest gossip? He thinks back to his and Louis’ little excursion, and how Louis had leaned on Harry’s shoulder for a majority of the time.

Oh, and let’s not forget, Harry is in love with Louis. That’s the thing that scares him most of all. And Harry has never lied to his mum before, but hey, there’s a first time for everything.

“Nope. The movie was good though,” Harry answers, forcing a smile. Wanting to avoid additional embarrassing questions, he adds, “So, I’m gonna go upstairs now. Bye, mum.”

He kisses his mum’s cheek and walks upstairs to his room. He collapses on his bed, feeling lighter than he has in a while. Funny that a single, beautiful boy can make him so happy and tingly all over.

He feels his phone vibrate with a text. He pulls it out of his pocket.

From Nialler:  
So how was it with you and lover boy ha

Harry smiles at the text, though he doesn’t really know why. He’s just so happy right now.

To Nialler:  
It was good. He leaned on my shoulder like the whole time it was so fucking cute xx

From Nialler:  
He wants the d

Harry laughs and rolls his eyes at the text from his best friend. A few moments later his phone buzzes with a text from Zayn.

From Zayn:  
Niall told me that Louis leaned on your shoulder and then you guys made out is that true

Harry bursts out laughing this time. Leave it to Niall to tell Zayn things that never actually happened. Though, Harry wishes that had happened. He thinks for a second about how good Louis' lips would feel against his, how he would let Louis do anything he wants to Harry. He imagines the hot slide of tongues as Louis would push him into the mattress...

No. no, no, no. Harry pushes his fantasies out of his clouded mind and texts Zayn back, ignoring his now semi-interested cock.

To Zayn:  
Sadly no, he only leaned on my shoulder but he was so cuddly you should’ve seen him hes so fucking cute oh my god

He can’t help it. He just has to tell someone how cute Louis is.

Oh shit. He has to tell Niall that he’s in love with Louis. Maybe Niall can help him.

He scoffs. Niall? And helping? Those two words definitely don't belong in the same sentence.

To Nialler:  
Oh yeah shit so I found out that I’m kind of in love with Louis

To Nialler:  
I don’t know what to do

To Nialler:  
Help ):

Niall’s answer is short, sweet, and even less helpful than Harry had ever imagined.

From Nialler:  
Snog him

Ha, no.

His phone buzzes with another text. Harry opens it up and his smile almost cracks his face as he reads the adorable text Louis sent him.

From Louis:  
Had a great time with you Curly, glad I wasnt the only one who cried ha. We should do it again sometime, if you want (: x

To Louis:  
Sounds good, I had a good time too. glad we went .x

***

The rest of Harry’s weekend passes in a haze of avoiding his mum’s question and telling Niall and Zayn everything. Funny, usually he tells his mum everything, but he’s scared of how his mum will react. She’ll probably say that he’s “too young to be in love”. Which, maybe he is, but he knows he loves Louis, and it's not like he can help it.

When Monday arrives, it’s easy to say that Harry’s terrified. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to act toward Louis. After all, he’s in love. And Louis is straight. Why must the world be so cruel?

He decides that, to try and get his mind off of pretty football players with pretty eyes and a pretty face, he’ll agree to do this radio thing with Nick. Who knows, maybe he’ll fall in love with Nick instead.

Yeah, right.

***

“Nick!”

Nick turns around, and when he spots Harry, he flashes a smile.

“So?” he asks, doing jazz hands.

“I wanna do it,” Harry smiles at the older boy.

“Great!” Nick exclaims. He gives Harry a short hug, and Harry hugs back.

It feels weird. Not necessarily bad, but it definitely doesn’t feel like when Louis hugged him. Nick is too big and his shoulders are too wide, not to mention the fact that he’s taller than Harry. It just doesn’t feel right.

“So, like, I’m doing the radio show today of course,” Nick announces. “So if you want to, you can come do it with me, just to get a feel for it, you know.”

“Cool,” Harry states by way of response.

***

“Hello, I’m Nick Grimshaw, joined with a special guest today-” Nick announces into the microphone, turning to Harry. Harry guesses that means he should say his name.

“Harry Styles!” Harry declares at the same time as Nick. Oh. Oops.

“Sorry!” Harry apologizes, giggling embarrassedly. “You looked at me like you wanted me to say my name!”

“No, you’re fine!” Nick ensures, laughing as well. “Anyway, today Harry will be joining me because, as most of you know, I will be graduating this year. So, Harold here will be my apprentice at the moment.”

Harry laughs. “My name’s not Harold.”

“That’s what Harry is short for though!” Nick argues.

“Not for me,” Harry retorts. He sticks his tongue out at Nick, who rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“Fine, then, Harold,” Nick teases, laughing.

The rest of the radio show goes on to discuss their opinions on the top ten song list as of right now, as well as whatever topics are popular at the moment. They also talk about what kind of shit will be happening this week at school, trying to be as unoffensive as possible towards the teachers who give them way too much work.

“And that’s all for today, see you guys next monday!” Nick announces after an hour or so.

“Bye!” Harry chirps, waving even though nobody but Nick can see him. He’s surprised to find that he actually likes being on Nick’s radio show.

Nick flicks the switch to their microphones off, turning to Harry and giving him a high-five.

“Good job, kid, you’ve got a great voice for the radio,” Nick praises, making Harry smile.

“Thanks, it was actually really fun,” Harry responds.

“And..” Nick adds, smiling mischieviously. “You got to skip your first hour.”

Harry’s really going to like doing this radio thing.

***

Before heading to his second hour class, Harry stops at his locker to pick up his science textbook. When he pulls open the door, he sees a piece of paper sitting atop his pile of books. He uncrumples it and reads,

_I listened to the radio show you did with Nick Grimshaw this morning. I don’t like him, but I listened to it because you were on there. You sounded fantastic. Your laugh is so beautiful._

_I’m kind of scared. Every time I see you I really want to kiss you, and I’ve never felt that way around any boys before. What are you doing to me, Harry? Yours, A Secret Admirer._

Harry reads it over two more times and furrows his eyebrows. Who could this secret admirer be? Is it someone Harry knows well, or somebody who’s just admiring him from afar?

He’s also slightly confused about the ‘ _I’ve never felt that way around any boys before_ ’ part. Does that mean this person is a boy? As Harry looks over the untidy, spiky-looking handwriting, he decides that, yes, a boy must be writing these notes. That means that there’s another gay person in this school.

So who is it?

***

When Harry enters History that day, he’s met with a very much unwanted sight. The desks, which were originally scattered about the room, have now been arranged into neat little groups of four.

Fuck, where is he supposed to sit?

A group of annoyingly talkative girls have already occupied one of the groups, and a group of football players has claimed another. Everyone else is just awkwardly standing around the edges of the room, not quite sure where to sit.

Harry hears a small “oh” from behind him.

He steps out of the way, allowing the kid to pass, when he notices that it’s Louis.

“Oh, hi Louis,” Harry greets, immediately smiling at the boy. Louis looks up at Harry and grins back.

“Well, this is shit, isn’t it?” Louis asks, standing next to Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry giggles. He tries to force his smile down, but it won’t go away. If this is what being in love is like, Harry’s going to have a lot of problems.

“Where should we go?” Louis questions, furrowing his eyebrows at Harry.

“We?” Harry asks, confused. Doesn’t Louis want to sit with his friends?

“Yes, you idiot, we,” Louis jokes. “Come on, Harry, let’s go over here.”

Louis grabs Harry by the forearm and leads him over to a group of desks in the back corner of the room. Harry practically melts at the touch, having to remind himself how to make the muscles in his legs work.

Louis sits down at one desk and Harry sits across from him, feeling suddenly self-conscious. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands or his legs, let alone what he’s supposed to say. After all, 'So, I’m kind of in love with you' probably isn’t an acceptable conversation-starter.

Harry opts to just look at the board and see what they’ll be doing today.

Monday, November 24  
Work on Ancient Greece partner projects  
**due tomorrow

Harry’s heart stops.

“Louis, fuck, our project is due tomorrow,” Harry blurts, looking over at Louis with wide eyes. “We’re only, like, halfway done.”

Harry tries his hardest not to think about the fact that, after this project is done, Louis will no longer have any reason to talk to him anymore. He pushes that thought to the back of his head, because no. This is not the kind of thing he wants to be thinking about.

“Oh shit,” Louis swears, then laughs. “You’re probably coming over again, then.”

Harry tries his hardest to pull off the ‘oh, darn, that’s a real shame’ look. He doesn’t think he succeeds.

When the bell rings and the teacher waltzes into the classroom, Harry directs his attention towards her.

“Hello, guys, so today you’re just working on your slideshow projects again,” she announces. “It’s due tomorrow, so some of you might want to work a little bit harder.”

Harry glances at Louis and makes an ‘oops, my bad’ face. Louis laughs silently. Harry is so fucking in love.

As the teacher starts taking attendance, Harry starts to doodle on his desk. There’s no one at the table except him and Louis, so thankfully nobody sees him doodling little hearts. Hearts for Louis.

He fucks up one of the hearts when Louis aims a kick at his shin under the table. Ow.

Harry looks up at Louis as the teacher starts listing the M’s, frowning and mouthing ‘ouch’. Louis smiles and kicks him again. Harry kicks back, and it turns into a game of footsies under the table. Harry thinks he could spend the rest of his life like this, no matter how bruised he would get.

Harry accidentally lets out a giggle, gently kicking Louis in the ankle. Louis pretends to be in excruciating pain, pulling a face and making Harry giggle again.

“Styles?” the teacher calls out.

“What? Oh, here,” Harry stutters, blushing as people around the room snicker quietly.

Louis catches Harry’s ankle between his two feet, calling out “Here!” when the teacher says his name. Louis then sets Harry’s foot gently on the ground, resting his own smaller one on top of Harry’s.

Harry’s heart hammers in his chest. He doesn’t even know why, but the gentle weight of Louis’ foot on top of his own is the most breathtaking, wonderful-yet-terrifying sensation he’s ever experienced. It’s silly, because it’s literally just their shoe-clad feet touching under the table, but Harry feels like he might explode.

He just gives Louis a small smile instead, trying not to think about how very fucked he is.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry and Louis end up having to work on their project after school, because they spend the whole hour typing stupid things into the slides to make each other laugh. At one point, Harry typed 'Fuck the Police' into the title area of a slide, and Louis cracked up for about two minutes straight. Honestly, Harry has never felt like this about anyone before.

Louis leads Harry up to his room, (whoa that sounds dirty. Ha, Harry wishes,) and both boys set their books down. Harry goes to take a seat on the chair by Louis’ desk, because being on Louis’ bed would probably be a very unnecessary distraction.

“I’m gonna go take a wee, be right back,” Louis smiles and walks out of the room, leaving Harry to sit there by himself.

Not knowing what to do, Harry directs his attention to the clutter of papers on Louis’ desk. He doesn’t mean to snoop, he really doesn’t, but what else is he supposed to do? Sit calmly in the Love of His Life’s room?

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry catches a paper with little hearts scribbled all over it. What?

Upon closer inspection, Harry sees that the initials FB are written inside of each of the little hearts. Jealousy fills him up to the brim. Who’s FB? He ponders it for a minute or so, but no matter how hard he tries, Harry can’t think of anyone at their school with the initials FB.

“What’s that?” Louis asks. Harry startles, eyes going wide with surprise.

“W-who’s FB?” Harry asks, holding up the piece of paper. He knows it’s none of his business, but he needs to know who this girl is.

Louis’ crystal blue eyes widen, his cheeks going red. Weird, this might be the first time Harry’s seen Louis blush.

“Um… I…” Louis stutters. He looks back and forth between Harry and the paper. “No one. Just… someone I’ve got my eye on at the moment.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows. He had never really thought of Louis as the type to develop crushes, especially not to the point that he draws little hearts around their initials. Maybe he doesn’t know Louis as well as he thinks he does.

“You… you can tell me who,” Harry assures quietly. Though, now that the time comes, he doesn’t even think he really wants to know.

“I’d… rather not,” Louis whispers. “Sorry. It’s just… weird.”

“Oh,” Harry whispers, just as quietly as Louis. “I’m sorry for looking at your stuff.”

And he does feel bad, because seeing the look of distress and nervousness on Louis’ face makes Harry wish that he’d never sat down in the first place.

“It’s okay,” Louis mumbles. Then, in a louder, more Louis-like voice, he says, “Alright. Let’s just pretend you never found that, and let’s get started. I like your flowers today, by the way.”

Harry blushes and smiles, and they get to work.

They work for about an hour in near silence, because both of them know that if they don’t finish this they’re absolutely fucked. The only talking they do is when they find a new fact, or when the find something really stupid or funny that they wanna show the other.

At one point they’re completely silent for about ten minutes, when suddenly Louis says, “Harry, can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” Harry mutters, looking up and laughing at the affronted look on Louis' face. “But seriously, yeah. What is it?”

“It’s kind of weird…” Louis mumbles, looking down at the desk. He had pulled up a chair next to Harry when they started working, even though there’s not enough room at the desk for both of them. Nevertheless, they made it work.

“Jesus, Louis, spit it out,” Harry laughs, not used to Louis being so shy. He thinks he likes it.

"Um..." Louis takes a deep breath and spits out, “How does sex between two guys work?”

Well. That’s not something Harry had been expecting.

“I, um…” Harry giggles a little bit, not because it’s funny but because he’s embarrassed and slightly nervous. “Okay. So, like, it’s kind of the same as sex between a guy and a girl, I guess. I’ve never done it before.”

“You haven’t?” Louis asks. He doesn’t wait for a reply before adding, “Do you still know how it works, though?”

“Well, like, yeah,” Harry admits. What, wiki-how exists for a reason. Don't look at him like that. “So, um… basically, one of the blokes uses his fingers to, like, open the other guy up so it doesn’t hurt as much, you know? Well, I mean, it doesn't hurt exactly, but... he's going to be getting a cock in there. So, you know.”

Harry can feel the crimson in his cheeks, can feel beads of sweat gathering on his skin in embarrassment. Louis is blushing faintly as well as he nods for Harry to go on.

“And then, like, after the guy is ready, the dude who’s topping just… puts his cock in him, I guess,” he finishes. Wow, what a nice description. Great job, Harry. You get a gold star.

Louis is just staring at him, most likely waiting for more.

“So, that’s pretty much it,” Harry finishes, clasping his hands together in his lap and feeling so embarrassed he might die.

“How do you know who’s... giving and who’s... taking, I guess?” Louis asks. And honestly, why is Louis so intrigued by this?

“Well, most guys have a preference, you know? Like, some people like to give, some people like to take, some like both, it just depends on who you are, I guess,” Harry blabbers. He does that when he’s embarrassed about something. Just keeps talking and talking and talking.

“And…” Louis blushes again, then leans toward Harry a bit and whispers, “which do you prefer?”

Harry might cry from the sheer amount of embarrassment filling his chest right now. He still has to answer, though, knows it would be rude not to. Plus, this is _Louis_ asking. Harry will do anything for Louis.

It’s a question Harry has asked himself multiple times, as well. He’s a virgin, so of course he doesn’t know from experience, but…

“I think...” Harry chokes out, throat feeling suddenly tight. He swallows shakily before continuing, “I think I would rather… receive, I guess. Yeah.”

Louis is just staring at him, again, but there’s nothing expectant in his gaze this time. Now it’s just a full-on expressionless stare. Did Harry do something wrong? Was that the wrong answer? Oh, god.

“Okay,” Louis finally whispers.

"Okay," Harry repeats, just as quiet. When the silence between them stretches on for a little bit too long, he adds, “Why did you wanna know? How it works, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Louis admits. “Just curious.”

“Okay,” Harry giggles, feeling some of his embarrassment disappear. Louis just looks so adorable when he’s being shy, all blushy and timid. Awkwardness still hangs in the air from their odd conversation, so Harry says the only thing he can think of. “What do you call it when you have sex with Jesus?”

Louis stares at him in bewilderment. “Um…”

“Holy fuck!” Harry blurts, collapsing back on the chair in laughter. Louis still looks thoroughly bewildered for a moment, before his eyes widen and he bursts out in giggles as well. [A/N: If any of you guys are super religious and get offended by this joke, please remember that it is just a joke, not to be taken seriously .x]

“Christ, Harry, how long did it take you to think of that?” Louis asks after a moment. The crinkles by his eyes still remain, though he’s stopped laughing. He’s like a work of art, Harry thinks.

Before he gets a chance to answer, Harry’s phone rings. “Hello?” he asks into it, slightly annoyed at whoever’s interrupting his time with Louis.

“Harry,” Zayn says, sounding a little nervous for some reason, “I need you to ask Louis something.”

“What?” Harry asks.

“I need you to ask Louis who Liam likes music-wise,” Zayn commands.

“One sec,” Harry answers, turning to Louis.

“Who does Liam like, music-wise?” he asks.

Louis doesn’t miss a beat. “Like, Jay-Z and Kanye, but he also likes Ed Sheeran.”

Harry thanks him and relays the information to Zayn. “But why?”

Silence for a couple of seconds, then, “Well, let’s just say… you aren’t the only one crushing on a bloke.”

“Zayn!” Harry shouts through the phone. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?!”

“I don’t know, it’s kind of embarrassing,” Zayn responds, sounding sheepish.

“Can I tell Louis?” Harry asks, wanting to share the information with anyone he can. Because, fucking finally, he’s not the only homosexual in their year.

“Um, sure, just, he can’t tell anyone. Especially not Liam,” Zayn orders. “I’m leaving now, bye.”

Harry hangs up and turns, with a huge smile, to Louis, who’s already looking back at him and waiting for Harry to tell him the big news.

“Louis, oh my god, Zayn is gay,” Harry blurts, practically vibrating with excited energy. “And get this, he has a crush on Liam! But you can't tell anyone.”

“Oh my god!” Louis screeches. “Liam keeps talking about Zayn all the time! But whenever I ask him about it, he’s always like ‘no, I don't fancy him, we’re just friends.’ But I don’t believe him.”

“Do you think they’ll get together?” Harry asks Louis, eyes wide and bright with happiness for his raven-haired friend.

“It depends on whatever shit Zayn’s got planned with the music stuff,” Louis reasons. “He’ll never admit it, but Liam’s got a huge soft spot for really thoughtful gifts. If Zayn plays his cards right, they’ll totally get together.”

Harry nods. Now that he thinks about it, he loves listening to Louis talk. Not only because Louis has a beautiful, sweet, honey-like voice, but because Louis’ face is so expressive when he talks, and it’s absolutely wonderful. Like a Greek god. Louis must miss Mount Olympus.

 

***

 

Harry receives yet another anonymous note in his locker before first hour the next day

_Hello again. Like I said in the last note, I’m really not used to having feelings for other dudes, so this is all 100% new and  kind of terrifying to me. But last night, I cuddled a pillow thinking of you. You’re just so cuddly looking all the time, and it kind of drives me insane. I just want to put my arms around you forever and ever, in the least creepy way possible. Yours, A Secret Admirer._

And if that isn’t the sweetest thing Harry’s ever read, he doesn’t know what is. His smile makes his face ache all throughout first hour math, and he just can't seem to care that he doesn’t understand a single thing in that stupid class.

At the end of the hour the bell rings and he leaves that dumb old class, ghost of a smile still etched into the lines of his face. He just can’t get over that adorable note. How does one even become so cute? Whoever is writing these deserves someone way better than Harry.

Suddenly, someone runs into Harry. Being the clumsy boy he is, Harry goes tumbling to the ground, thereby dropping his books everywhere.

“My bad! Sorry, faggot!” sneers one of the jocks, laughing and high-fiving his friend before he continues walking down the hallway.

Sighing to himself, Harry starts to gather his stuff up, already knowing he’s going to be late to second hour. Any other day he would be pissy and a little hurt at the moment, but he's in such a good mood today that he doesn't even care all that much.

“Harold! Want help?” comes a voice from above him. Looking up, Harry is met with the sight of Nick Grimshaw.

“Oh, hi Nick,” he greets. “Yeah, thanks.”

Nick crouches and helps Harry gather up the fallen papers. With Nick’s help they clean the stuff up relatively quickly, silent as they do so. When they’re finished they stand and Nick hands Harry’s stuff back to him. Their hands brush as it happens.

Harry feels absolutely nothing.

“Thanks, man,” Harry smiles. Nick smiles back. They just stand there for a second, looking at each other, atmosphere between them slightly awkward.

Harry squeaks and jumps when he feels someone jab their fingers into his side.

“Hazza!” Louis greets rather loudly, stepping out from behind Harry and smiling brightly. Harry feels like he’s melting at Louis’ adorableness. Also, why is Louis here?

“Um, hi, Louis,” Harry says back, and he can't quite help the small grin that sinks into his features. Louis does that to him.

“Hello, Louis,” Nick greets warmly, giving Louis a smile as well.

“Grimshaw,” Louis sniffs coldly, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

Harry stares at the pretty boy beside him. Why is Louis suddenly being so unfriendly? Harry has never seen this side of him before. He doesn’t think he likes it.

“No to offend, but, like, why are you here, Louis?” Nick asks timidly, seeming slightly taken aback as well.

Harry jumps a little as he feels Louis’ arm come up around his waist, the warm weight of his hand on Harry’s hip seeming to anchor Harry to the him. It feels like all of Harry’s nerves are on fire.

“I saw my friend Harry here and I thought I would come say hi,” Louis explains, sounding malignant as he pulls Harry closer to him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I was helping Harry out by picking up his books after someone pushed him over,” Nick answers, tone sounding confused as to why Louis is acting this way. Harry is confused as well. _What the fuck, Louis?_

“Well, aren’t you just such a wonderful friend,” Louis remarks sarcastically. "A gold star for _Grimshaw,_ over here."

This is weird. This is really weird. Harry doesn’t know what’s happening at all.

Suddenly Louis turns to him, a smile on his face that doesn’t look quite right to Harry. “Hazza, I have a football game on Friday, and I want you to come cheer me on.”

“Why me?” Harry asks, thoroughly bewildered by this entire situation. Nick is still standing _right there_ , why is Louis saying this right now?

“Because, that’s what friends do, right?” Louis asks, squeezing Harry’s hip for a second and making Harry feel weak at the knees.

 _Friends_ , Harry repeats over and over in his head. That's right. Him and Louis are friends. Nothing less, definitely nothing more. Harry knows that.

So why does he feel so disappointed?

“Okay, I’ll come,” he answers, forcing a smile. Louis flashes him a grin, eyes crinkling in the most beautiful way.

The bell rings, meaning all three boys are late to their second hour class.

“Oh, shit,” Harry swears. “I’m leaving now, thank you Nick, bye Louis.”

“You’re welcome, Harold,” Nick responds, waving and smiling at him.

Louis gives him one more squeeze around his waist, patting Harry’s hip before saying, “Bye-bye Hazza.”

Harry smiles wide at the small, adorable boy before turning around and walking to class.

Jesus, he loves Louis so much.

 

***

The rest of the week passes by rather quickly, and it’s quite uneventful except for one thing.

Louis will not stop touching him. All. The fucking. Time.

It’s not a bad thing, definitely not, but it makes Harry so, so, _so_ sexually frustrated.

They only have the same Lunch and History hours, but that doesn’t stop Louis, no. Every time they pass each other in the hallway Louis will reach out and run his fingers down Harry’s arm, or he’ll steal Harry’s flower crown (of course, he gives it back after a few moments), or, one time, he slapped Harry’s bum.

Harry had almost cried from sexual frustration.

And the worst thing is, as much as Harry is enjoying the constant physical contact, he knows that he’s fucked. Because every time Louis touches him, Harry’s love for Louis grows stronger. And it fucking sucks, because Louis doesn’t love him back. And he never will.

It’s worst in History class. Louis has taken to sitting next to Harry instead of sitting across from him, and he never stops touching Harry. Whether it’s things like poking him over and over again, kicking him under the table, or drawing patterns on his arm. You name it, Louis does it.

The worst part is Louis’ obsession with Harry’s curls.

Harry will never admit it, but he _might_ get a little bit horny when Louis touches his hair. And he _might_ have popped a semi a couple times during class because Louis kept pulling on his curls. Thankfully, Louis has never noticed.

Harry has to be honest though, he fucking loves when Louis touches him. whether it’s  a poke in the cheek or a slap on the bum, Harry smiles every time. Except that one time when an accidental moan slipped from his lips because Louis tugged _just right_ on one of his many locks of hair, and Harry had to cover it up with a fake coughing fit. That time, he was too busy being mortally embarrassed to smile.

When Friday afternoon arrives, Harry gets home from school and collapses on his bed, exhausted from a week of school. He reaches a hand in his jeans pocket and extracts three letters from his pocket. He’s received one each day this week. He reads over them all again.

There’s the one from Wednesday -

_Guess who’s back. Back again. Shady’s back. Tell a friend. Short and sweet today, I just want you to know that you’re really fucking pretty (in the most manly way possible) and I kind of want to wreck you. I hope that doesn’t come off as creepy or overly-horny-teenager-ish. Yours, A Secret Admirer._

Then there’s the one from Thursday -

_Guess who? It’s me. Again. I really hope this isn’t coming off as creepy. So today I was thinking about what it would feel like to kiss you. Like, it just kind of popped into my head. Your lips just look so soft, ugh. I noticed that I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. It’s like a subconscious thing. It scares me a little bit. Yours, A Secret Admirer._

And then there’s the one from earlier today, which made Harry feel all tingly and happy -

_Oh dear lord help me. I fancy you so fucking much it hurts._

Harry stares at that last letter, because wow, someone at school fancies him. Like, _actually_   fancies him. It's not something Harry's ever experienced before. And it feels amazing, to know that there's someone out there who involuntary thinks about him all the time, and who wouldn't mind kissing him.

Harry has only ever kissed one person before.

_He was 13, and he had recently accepted the fact that he's gay. He had a huge crush on his friend, who's name was Josh. Quite naively, he had thought that Josh liked him back._

_One day, Harry and Josh had been at the park, sitting  together under the shade of a tree. Josh had been laughing at something stupid Harry had said, and Harry had thought he looked absolutely beautiful. Josh had looked back at him, eyes crinkled a bit at the corners, and Harry had involuntarily leaned in. Josh's breath had hitched, and Harry had taken that as a sign to go on. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Josh's for just a second, pulling back a moment later._

_"What the heck, Harry?" Josh had asked. He hadn't known Harry was gay at the time._

_"I-I'm sorry," Harry has stuttered, terrified at Josh's negative reaction._

_And then Josh just got up and left. And Harry never got a chance to apologize, because he never saw Josh again._

Ever since that day Harry has sworn off kissing people unless the other person does it first, scared that the same thing will happen again. Which, of course, hasn't happened. Harry came out as gay about a year after the incident, and nobody has even attempted to kiss him since. Harry tries not to think about that fact too much.

Harry's phone buzzes, scattering his thoughts.

 

From Louis:

Getting ready for the game, I'll be looking for you in the crowd ha (:

Fuck, the game. Harry completely forgot.

It's almost December, so the air outside is rather chilly. Harry throws on a large jumper and a pair of skinny jeans, hoping that'll be enough.

 

***

At the game, Harry climbs the crowded bleachers and sits somewhere around the middle, the frozen metal of the bleacher chilling Harry's bum through the denim of his jeans.

At the top of the bleachers are the couples who didn't really come to watch the game, but opt instead to sit and make out for hours on end. Get a room, right?

At the bottom of the bleachers, closest to the field, are the girlfriends of the players. They're all holding colorful posters with their partner's names written in glitter glue and pastel sharpie, cheering loudly for their boyfriends. Harry has always secretly wanted to be one of those girls, except, of course, that he’s a boy. He’s just always wished to be his significant other’s personal cheerleader. He thinks it’s rather cute, even though some people find it annoying.

A roar upsets the crowd and Harry jumps up from the cold metal of his seat, standing on his toes to view the field.

Running out, waving and fist-pumping at the crowd, is Harry’s school’s team, led by Louis, of course.

Harry cheers, his yell lost in the roar of the crowd. The team lines up, Louis at the front of the line because he’s the captain.

The away team jogs onto the field, to applause which is much less enthusiastic and more polite. Harry bounces on his toes, keeping his gaze mainly on Louis, who seems to be searching the crowd.

When Louis’ eyes land on Harry he waves, and Harry thinks he can see Louis’ smile even from a distance. Harry waves back, jumping up and down as he does so and grinning from ear to ear. People around him are staring at Harry in bewilderment, but Harry doesn’t care one bit.

The game begins and Harry goes wild, cheering at the top of his lungs whenever Louis gets the ball.

It ends up being way colder than Harry had imagined, so he has to keep jumping around while he cheers to keep himself warm. It’s kind of working, but he’s also starting to lose the feeling in his hands.

When halftime arrives, Louis is thoroughly sweaty and his shirt sticks to him, molding to the slight indents of his abs and making Harry want to drool. Man, if he wasn't so cold, Harry might be hard as a rock right now. Maybe there _is_ an upside to practically getting hypothermia.

 

***

With five minutes left in the game, things aren’t looking good. The teams are tied, and the players on Louis' team are all tired and sweaty, while their opponents still have a decent amount of energy left. **  
**

Harry really fucking wants to see his Love’s team win, even if it means doing something really stupid.

Before he knows what’s happening, Harry’s feet, numb with the chilly November cold, are carrying him down the bleachers, right toward the stairs down to the field. Fuck, what is he doing?

He can’t go back now. Harry runs down the steps at lightning speed, dashing up to the group of cheerleaders, who seem to have given up.

“Guys! Or, uh, girls!” he shouts to them, effectively getting their attention. “They’re gonna lose, you have to do something!”

“Well, we’ve run out of cheers, and Louis Tomlinson is losing steam fast!” one of the girls explains. Harry thinks her name is Julia, or something of the sort. “He’s our best player!”

“We have to get him pumped!” Harry argues. “Here, make up something real quick, something really cheesy. Like, _L-O-U-I-S, you can do it, you’re the best!_ ”

Honestly, Harry’s pretty proud of himself for making that up on the spot. Though, he still has no idea what exactly he’s doing.

The girls all exchange glances in that teenage-girl way, then turn to Harry and smile.

“Okay, cool,” Julia - Julia? - agrees. “And we can go like…” She does a complex, fluent movement. All the girls mimic her, and they get in whatever position cheerleaders do. Harry will never understand the act of cheerleading.

Harry glances at the clock. Three minutes left in the game. Come on...

“Ready? Let’s go!” Julia chants.

“ _L-O-U-I-S, you can do it, you’re the best!_ ” they all cheer, waving their pom-poms in the air. Harry yells the phrase along with them, but avoids doing the actual movements. He would embarrass himself even more than he already is if he were to do so. They repeat that cheesy-ass cheer three times, then they all yell, “ _Gooooo, Louis!_ ”

Louis stops dead in the middle of the field, just staring at the cheerleaders. Then his gaze lands on Harry, who feels rather insecure under his crush’s stare. He gives a sheepish smile and waves timidly. Wow, this is a little embarrassing.

And suddenly Louis smiles wide and bolts forward, straight up to a player on the other team and steals the ball from him, expertly weaving in and out of the other players. He runs, faster than Harry’s ever seen, all the way to the other side of the field, and boots the ball…

And he scores.

Harry screams, absolutely _screams_ , and jumps up and down excitedly. He’s not even sure what to do with himself. _He_ did that. _He_ made Louis score.

Suddenly he’s getting hugged by a group of girls, all of them clinging to him and yelling in his ear. A couple of them smack lip gloss-smudged kisses onto his cheeks and the top of his head. Harry has never felt more loved in his life.

“Harry, you’re fucking amazing,” Julia gushes, hugging him tight around the neck, her feet lifting off the ground as she does so.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Harry repeats over and over as all the girls scream praise at him. Harry’s smile is threatening to crack his face in half, he’s so fucking happy.

And then the buzzer goes off to signal the end of the game, and the whole crowd roars again, stomping their feet just for the sake of making noise.

Louis’ team just won. Harry feels like one of the proud girlfriends at the bottom of the bleachers. Man, he wishes.

As the cheerleaders calm down, the football team does a victory lap around the field, waving and yelling and smiling at the crowd. A few of the guys run up and hug their girlfriends from the cheerleading team, which makes Harry smile. He loves seeing people in committed relationships. It makes him feel happy and bubbly inside.

There’s a tap on Harry’s shoulder, and when he turns around he receives an arm full of a warm, sweaty Louis.

Louis clings to Harry’s chest, the top of his sweat-drenched hair sticking to Harry’s chin as he eventually hugs the small boy back. Harry really, really wants to kiss the top of his crush’s head. So he does.

Well, it’s not really a kiss, it’s more like Harry just pressing his lips into Louis’ hair for a millisecond - Louis probably doesn't even notice it, in fact. Nevertheless, it makes Harry feel warm and tingly and happy inside, like his stomach has flipped inside out. It's a wonderful feeling. He rests his cheek on top of Louis’ head, and he catches the sound of Louis mumbling something into his chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Louis is murmuring over and over again. Harry pulls Louis back by the shoulders to look him in the eyes. Louis is smiling so big Harry is surprised he was even able to speak a second ago.

“So, which girl are you taking home tonight?” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear. He kind of wants to know (mostly so that he can kill her and destroy the evidence), but he mostly asks because he wants to avoid saying something like 'I love you so much it hurts, please be mine'.

“Um…” Louis glances behind Harry for a second, then focuses his crystal blue eyes back on Harry’s curious green ones. “None of them.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows. “What? Why? You always do.”

“Well,” Louis shrugs, “I think I’m done with that era of my life. I think I’m ready for something a bit more… serious, you know?”

Harry thinks back to those little hearts with FB scribbled inside. The beautiful boy’s words sink in, and Harry realizes that Louis has a huge crush on some girl, and wants to be in a relationship with said person. So much, in fact, that he’s sworn off fucking random chicks. Harry feels unbelievably jealous. One question still remains, however.

_Who the hell is FB?_


	7. Chapter 7

When Harry wakes up the next morning his first coherent thought is to text Louis.

He grabs his phone from his bedside drawer and checks the time, seeing that it's 11 am. He remembers last night and smiles softly, remembering Louis' victory and the long hug Harry had received. When he recounted the events to his mum last night, she had given him a motherly hug and told Harry that she's proud. That had made Harry feel pretty special as well, even though all mums are basically programmed to say things like that.

To Louis:

Nice job at the game last night, I'm proud of you .x

He sets his phone back on the drawer, knowing Louis probably won't text back for a while. He climbs out of bed, naked as usual.

What? He sleeps naked. Don't judge.

Harry's just slipping on some boxers when his phone buzzes, confusing him.

From Louis:

Couldn't have done it without you. (: think the dog piles n shit were a bad idea though, I've caught the flu xx

Harry takes a second to think about Louis, all ruffled hair and tired eyes, sick with the flu. Sniffling, all bundled up in blankets. Harry smiles at the thought.

To Louis:

Aw, that stinks. I'll be there with soup and cuddles in spirit ha .x

He thinks maybe the part about cuddles is pushing it a bit, but he sends the text anyway. After all, he and Louis had cuddled before at the movies, so it's not like the idea of them cuddling is something completely foreign. Still, Harry would love to cuddle with Louis again.

From Louis:

Why can't you be here with soup and cuddles in real life?:(

Harry's heart skips a little, but then he realizes Louis isn't serious. He's just being Louis.

To Louis:

Haha, hope you get better .xx

Harry's breath cuts short when he sees the next text.

From Louis:

No seriously. Get your bum over here right now and give me some soup.

Oh. So Louis was serious. Okay then.

To Louis:

Oh you're serious? Be over in a bit .x

From Louis:

Chicken noodle. See you Hazza (:

Harry laughs and shakes his head at Louis' childish soup option. He throws on some dark wash skinny jeans and a knit lavender jumper, grabbing a lavender flower crown and placing it on top of his unruly curls. He doesn't really care if he looks bad, just wants to see Louis as soon as possible.

Harry slides down the banister instead of walking down the stairs, a habit he's gotten into lately that he probably needs to put an end to if he doesn't want to kill himself.

"Mum, can you drive me over to Louis'?" Harry asks when he arrives in the kitchen. Harry's mum looks up from where she's making herself some tea, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Louis'?" She asks. A little bit of amusement is creeping into her tired eyes. "Sure thing, Harry."

Harry's a little embarrassed at the mischievous look Anne is giving him, but he pushes it down and walks over to their cupboard. He searches through it until he finds a can of chicken noodle soup, which his mum bought solely for when either of them has a sick day.

"Why the soup?" Anne asks.

"Oh, um, Louis wanted me to bring it for him. He's sick," Harry explains. He's kind of proud of himself, because Louis asked him to come over. Not Liam, not one of the dumb popular boys, _Harry_. It makes Harry feel all bubbly and happy inside, at the same time making him slightly confused as to why Louis would choose Harry over his best mate. After all, Liam must be a pretty good guy if Zayn fancies him.

Whatever. Harry really needs to learn to stop thinking.

***

Somewhat creepily, Harry remembers the directions to Louis' house, so he tells his mum where to go. Upon his arrival, Harry quickly jumps out of the car before his mum can make any embarrassing comments.

"Bye, mum! Thanks for the ride!" Harry rushes, slamming the car door in his hurry and excitement to see Louis.

It occurs to Harry that this is the first time he's going over to Louis' house just for the heck of it. After all, Louis' mum can probably take care of Louis perfectly well.

So that means Louis chose Harry over his own mum as well. Okay.

Harry knocks on the door, hooking his hands together behind his back after he does so. He rocks back and forth on his heels, waiting, when he hears the thundering of multiple pairs of feet seemingly running to the door.

A little girl, no more than six years old from what Harry can tell, flings open the door. She smiles at Harry endearingly, and Harry counts three missing teeth. He almost melts.

Harry loves little kids so much.

Another little girl, who looks practically identical to the first, joins her at the doorway.

"Who are you?" the first little girl asks.

"I'm, uh, Harry," Harry greets, waving a little. It occurs to him that Louis has never talked about having sisters, nor has Harry ever seen any around Louis' house the few times he's been here. Then again, Harry has never seen Louis' mum either. Still, is he at the wrong house?

"You're Harry?" Little Girl #2 asks. She has a disbelieving look in her furrowed eyebrows and big blue eyes.

Another girl, this one looking a little bit older, joins the first two at the doorstep.

"Who are you?" She asks, in the same curious way the first little girl asked him.

"That's Harry," Little Girl #1 almost whispers, pointing at Harry and raising her eyebrows at the newest little girl.

This girl has a completely different reaction. She smirks, looking back at Harry and raising one eyebrow. Harry is so confused. Why are these girls acting so peculiar at the mention of his name?

"I'm Felicite," she introduces. "Girls, tell Harry your names."

"I'm Daisy," Little Girl #1 - Daisy - greets.

"Phoebe," Little Girl #2 smiles, showing almost all her teeth. All of Phoebe's teeth are still intact, unlike Daisy's.

"Girls?" a familiar voice drifts down the hallway that leads from the main area of the house to the front door. Harry recognizes it as Louis' voice. Thank god, he's in the right house.

"Hi, Louis," he calls, relieved, waving even though Louis can't see him.

Daisy and Phoebe giggle while Felicite smirks once again. And really, what is wrong with these girls?

Yet another person appears, another girl with the same blue eyes as the rest of the Tomlinson family.

"Jesus, girls, let him in," she bosses, waving a hand at Harry and beckoning him inside. This girl looks like the oldest of the group, though not much older than the second-oldest. Wow, that made, like, no sense.

"Thank you," Harry says, stepping inside and slipping off his shoes and jacket.

"Harry, why are you wearing flowers in your hair if you're a boy?" Daisy asks. Felicite and the oldest girl have wandered off, while Daisy and Phoebe are still watching Harry intently as if he's the most interesting TV show in the world.

Harry laughs. Usually, this question embarrasses him, but he finds it cute coming from a little girl.

"It's just something I like to do," Harry tells her.

"Daisy is named after a flower. It's called a Daisy. They're pretty," Phoebe informs Harry.

Harry grins at her. "I know they are, I have daisies at my house. I wear them too, sometimes."

Daisy giggles and claps her hands. Harry might die from the cuteness. These girls are like tiny Louis's, all cute and blue-eyed and curious.

"What other flowers do you like?" Daisy asks.

"Well," Harry starts, ruffling Daisy's blonde hair, "I happen to like daisies quite a bit. They're bright and beautiful, just like you two." the girls giggle, so Harry continues, "I also quite like red flowers, like roses and tulips."

"Mum plants those out in the garden during spring," Phoebe informs him. Harry pretends to be greatly interested in this news.

"Do you want to play dress up with us?" Daisy asks timidly. "You can be the princess, since you like wearing girl stuff."

Harry laughs at that, taking his flower crown off and placing it on Daisy's head.

"I would love to, but you see, I came here to take care of your sick brother," Harry explains. He makes himself feel all tingly when he says the words 'take care of', but he ignores it. "See? I brought him some soup."

Phoebe giggles. "You're like his mum."

"I guess you could say that," Harry responds, laughing at the odd comparison.

He glances up for a moment and sees something in his peripheral vision. Turning, his eyes are met with the lovely sight of Louis, leaning against the doorway the the end of the short hall. He's wearing a small smile on his pretty little face, looking at Harry and the girls.

"Oh, hello, didn't see you there," Harry greets, standing up. Daisy hands him back his lavender flower crown, and Harry places it carefully on his head.

Daisy and Phoebe run over to Louis, and Phoebe gestures for him to lean down. She whispers something Harry can't catch into Louis' ear. Louis smiles, shaking his head and laughing.

"I know, girls. Now, go along and play," he orders gently, patting their bums and ushering them further into the house.

Harry approaches Louis, stopping a safe distance from him. He doesn't give a shit that Louis is sick, but he doesn't want to cross any lines. Though, speaking of which, Louis does look pretty sick. His face is paler than usual and he sniffs a couple of times. He also has bags under his tired-looking eyes.

"You didn't tell me you have sisters," Harry notes, smiling at the thought of the many, adorable little girls.

Louis shrugs. "They're kind of annoying, mostly." His voice betrays his words, because Harry can catch traces of fondness stitched into his tone.

"I think they're adorable," Harry comments. He likes little kids, really likes them, especially ones as curious and lovely as he thinks Tomlinson girls to be.

"They adore you," Louis admits, laughing and shaking his head, looking at the floor.

"Oh yeah," Harry suddenly says, "what did Phoebe whisper to you?"

Louis sniffles, then shrugs. "Oh, um. Nothing."

Harry doesn't want to pry, so he just leaves it at that.

"Where's your kitchen?" Harry asks, gesturing to the can of soup in his hand. Only now does it hit him that he's only ever been in the front walkway and in Louis' room, never anywhere else in Louis' house. The sudden acknowledgement feels almost like a challenge to Harry.

"Ooh, you brought it," Louis cheers excitedly, gesturing for Harry to follow him and leading him into a large kitchen. There are granite countertops and stainless steel appliances, along with wooden cabinets lining the walls. Pictures evidently drawn by the little girls are taped to the refrigerator, along with pictures of each of the Tomlinson kids. Harry smiles when he sees Louis', a silly picture of Louis posing with a statue of Spider-Man, trying to copy the superhero's intense-looking pose.

"Can you show me where you keep your pots and stuff?" Harry asks, looking away from the refrigerator and turning to look at the real Louis instead.

Louis points to a cabinet somewhere by the stove. Harry crouches down, trying to see which cabinet Louis is pointing at. He starts to open one up, but Louis shakes his head.

"No, the one on your left," Louis orders.

Harry reaches for the cabinet on his left, opening it and pulling out a medium-sized pot, setting it on the stove. He sets it on one of the burners and turns on the stove, setting it at about medium heat.

"Where's your can opener?" he asks, turning back to Louis, who's leaning against the refrigerator tiredly with his eyes half shut.

"Oh, um..." Louis drags his feet over to the cabinet next to Harry, opening it up and grabbing a can opener, handing to Harry. Harry takes it tenderly from Louis' limp hand.

"Sleepy?" Harry asks. Louis brings his hand up to rub his own eye and nods. Harry might cry, because he's never seen anything more precious in his life.

Harry brings a hand up and hesitantly pets at Louis' hair, because Louis is reminding him of a little sleepy baby hedgehog and it seems like the appropriate thing to do. Louis leans into it, seeming to lose steam fast as he rests his head in Harry's hand and looks at Harry through half-lidded eyes. He looks dangerously cute, threatening to make Harry explode with pure love for the smaller boy.

"Why don't you go lay down on the couch over there," Harry coos, slowly and cautiously removing his hand from Louis' hair. He doesn't want Louis to fall or something.

"Okay," Louis croaks and sluggishly walks over to the living room area, which is connected to the kitchen. Harry smiles and shakes his head fondly. He is so in love with this dorky-ass boy.

Harry opens the can of soup and pours it into the pot, giving it five minutes to cook on full heat as he messes with his phone. When the oven timer goes off he jumps, then turns off the burner and pours the soup into a bowl, looking through the cabinets to find a spoon for Louis. When he finally finds one, he follows the path Louis previously took to the living room.

Louis' fluffy little head is visible as Harry turns the corner into the room, and when Harry ventures further into said room he discovers that Louis is fast asleep.

Louis' hair is hanging half over his left eye, and his visible eye is closed peacefully. His breathing is slow and even, the steady rise and fall of his body threatening to make Harry sleepy as well. His face is peaceful as well, no sign of the cute little grin Louis always seems to be wearing to some degree.

He looks so beautiful. Harry falls a little further in love.

Louis just looks like a work of art, perfection, all flowing lines and gentle curves.

Before Harry can do something stupid, like kiss Louis awake, he sits on the floor in front of the cuddly-looking boy and pokes him in the arm. After that concedes no reaction, Harry pokes Louis in the chest. Still no reaction. He pokes Louis' cheek. Yet again, no reaction. Well damn, Louis is a heavy sleeper.

"Louis..." Harry whispers, poking Louis' cute little nose, "wake up..."

He holds the bowl of soup under Louis' nose, trying to coax Louis awake with the lovely smell.

"Louis Tomlinson," Harry coos, a little louder this time.

Louis' face scrunches up, and Harry smiles, internally cheering for himself because he finally got Louis awake.

"Mmm," Louis grumbles, cracking an eye open. "'S too cold."

Harry takes note of what Louis is wearing. He's got on a pair of soft, thin-looking sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt. Regardless, Louis looks amazing as usual.

"Oh, um..." Harry looks around, trying to find a blanket. He sees one draped over the couch Louis is currently laying on. Grabbing it, Harry pulls it up over Louis' body and settles it over his slim shoulders.

"Thank you," Louis gives him a small smile, snuggling further between the blanket and the couch. Harry wants Louis to snuggle with him like that.

"Er... Here's the soup," Harry tells Louis awkwardly, stretching his arm out to give the bowl to the sick boy.

Louis doesn't take the bowl, just opens his mouth up. It takes Harry a few beats to realize what Louis is implying, and he giggles. The truth is, he would love to feed Louis, but he doesn't want to make his crush on the boy too obvious by seeming too eager.

"Louis," Harry attempts to deadpan, but it turns out more amused. "I'm not feeding you."

"Harry," Louis tuts, using the same tone that Harry used, "I am a sick boy, and I demand you feed me."

Harry just laughs, careful not to spill the soup.

"Harry," Louis whines. "Food. Now."

Harry lets himself break down the wall he had previously built up, and takes a spoonful of soup from the bowl. He holds it up to Louis' mouth and Louis clamps his lips around it, hollowing his cheeks a bit as he eats the food.

Okay. Harry doesn't know whether Louis is doing this on purpose or not, but it's really fucking hot.

Harry retracts the spoon from Louis' pretty mouth.

"More," Louis demands, opening his mouth up once again.

Harry feeds Louis a few more spoonfuls before he has to stop, because Louis is really hot and Harry doesn't want to get hard at an inappropriate moment.

"Okay, that's all. Don't want you to throw up," Harry lies.

Louis makes a disappointed face but doesn't argue.

"'S too hot now," Louis complains, kicking at the blanket and trying to get it off using his weak limbs.

_You're right, you are hot_ , Harry thinks as he takes the blanket off of Louis' pretty little body.

"Better?" Harry asks, folding the blanket up and placing it on the floor.

Louis shakes his head, looking at Harry indignantly for some reason.

"What? Why?" Harry asks, confused.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Louis tuts, shaking his head. "How can you forget your promises so easily?"

Harry furrows his eyebrows, even more confused than before. "What?"

"Well," Louis starts, "if I'm not just imagining things, I specifically remember being promised not only soup, but also cuddles."

Louis seems to be trying to seem intimidating, but it's kind of adorable because he smiles at the end. Also, whoa.

Harry gets the chance to cuddle with Louis Tomlinson once again. He might cry of happiness.

Still, once again, he can't seem to eager.

"Louis, I said that as a joke," Harry lies, smiling in what he hopes is more amused and less fond. He doesn't think it turns out the way he hopes.

"Well," Louis demands indignantly, "I didn't say yes as a joke. So get up here."

Harry shakes his head, using all his will power not to jump into Louis' arms. He laughs, but promptly stops as Louis grabs him around the neck.

"Louis," he screeches, giggling, "let me go!"

Louis nuzzles into Harry's hair, effectively making Harry blush and practically melt.

"You have no choice, young Hazza," Louis states in a fake-low voice. "Surrender now and no one gets hurt."

Harry laughs, trying for an exasperated tone. "Fiiine."

Louis releases Harry, who immediately misses Louis' arms around his neck. So, at what he hopes is a relatively leisurely pace, he stands up, straightening out his jumper.

Louis grins up at him and lays flat on his back, head propped up against the arm of the couch as he opens his arms.

Harry giggles. "Louis, no. I'll crush you."

More like crush _on_ you. Haha. That was such a terrible pun.

Louis looks up at Harry indignantly. "Excuse you, Harold, but, contrary to popular belief, I am not a weakling."

Harry smiles at Louis' use of Nick's name for him, because he likes it more coming out of Louis' mouth. Don't get him wrong, Nick is great, but. This is Louis.

"I don't think you're weak," Harry pouts, "I'm just a lot bigger than you."

Louis frowns. "You're stupid. Just come here."

Harry's heart is threatening to explode out of his chest it's beating so fast. He tries to think of a not-awkward way of doing this. His brain isn't working right, so it takes him a few seconds of just staring at Louis' cute, sleepy face before he thinks of something.

Walking to the other side of the small couch, Harry climbs onto it and crawls forward on his hands and knees until he can easily settle himself over the warm, sleepy Louis. He can barely breathe right as he rests his body on top of Louis'.

Louis, his straight friend who Harry has no chance with. Remember that, Harry. Don't get your hopes up.

Harry lays his head down on Louis' warm chest, his arms trapped somewhat awkwardly underneath his body. Louis' arms wrap loosely around Harry’s back, and Harry’s entire body seems to go numb with the realization that he’s actually cuddling with Louis Tomlinson. Like, whoa.

Harry feels one of Louis’ arms come up to grab Harry’s flower crown off of his head, and he looks up to see Louis place it on top of his own soft, unruly hair. Louis looks down at Harry and smiles.

“How do I look?” Louis asks, over-exaggeratedly modelling his newest accessory.

“Fantastic.” Harry’s tone makes it seem like a joke, but it’s really not. Louis looks so beautiful. The flower crown probably looks better on Louis than it does on Harry. Then again, the same is probably true for everything Harry owns.

Louis laughs. Then, suddenly, he stops and says, “my birthday is in, like, a month.”

“What day?” Harry asks, deciding not to comment about Louis’ random subject change.

“The 24th,” Louis confirms. Harry opens his mouth to comment when Louis sighs, “Christmas Eve, I know. It kind of sucks.”

“I think it’s cool,” Harry complements. Louis doesn’t say anything further on the subject.

Harry settles his head back down on Louis’ chest, listening to his steady heartbeat through the thin fabric of Louis’ old shirt. The slow rise and fall of Louis’ breathing makes Harry feel unbelievably sleepy, and he’s having trouble keeping his eyes open when Louis asks out of nowhere:

“Harry, do you fancy someone?”

Harry practically chokes on air. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know, I’m bored and you’re not talking to me,” Louis explains. “So, do you?”

“Um,” Harry thinks about it and decides that, hey, Louis didn’t ask him who it is. Harry can just simply say, “Yes.”

“Oh, can you tell me who it is?” Louis asks.

Harry shakes his head with some difficulty, because he’s laying on Louis’ chest. Which, wow, he’s _laying on Louis’ chest_.

“Oh, okay,” Louis whispers into Harry’s curls. Harry still hasn’t gotten his flowers back. “Can you… describe him to me, then?”

Harry shrugs and nods, because why not. He can just be vague as fuck and Louis will never find out that it’s actually him.

“Okay,” Harry starts. “He’s older than me.” After all, Louis just said his birthday is on Christmas Eve, and Harry’s is on February 1st. So, technically Louis is older than him. Harry continues, “He’s… really attractive? And, um… I don’t think he likes me back.”

Good job Harry, vague and truthful. He deserves an award for his cleverness.

“Okay,” Louis mumbles. His body feels a little bit limp under Harry’s, and Harry takes that as a sign that he’s probably crushing the poor boy.

“Am I crushing you now?” Harry asks, facing Louis once again. Louis looks down at him with some weird, indescribable expression, before shaking his head no.

“Can you describe the girl you fancy now?” Harry asks, settling his head once again on Louis' warm chest. If Harry has to tell Louis, then Louis has to tell Harry. That’s just how it works. Plus, now maybe Harry can get a hint about what hoebag Louis is crushing on.

“Um. Sure,” Louis affirms. He sighs into the top of Harry’s head, “Let’s see. They’re… cute. Very cute. It’s like, I wanna snuggle them forever but I also kind of want to wreck them. Uh. Moving on. They’re lovely to be around as well, a little awkward but in an adorable way. And, um… you did three, right? I probably have to also, then. Uh, I don’t think this person likes me back either, because they always act like they don’t really want me to be there. And I’m pretty sure they fancy someone else. So, yeah.”

Harry might have to find this stupid girl and crush her face. After all, who wouldn’t like Louis back? Dumb girl.

Harry exhales deeply. “I’m sorry.”

And then Harry’s eyelids are drooping again, and before he knows it he’s fast asleep.

***

“That’s so cute, oh my god!”

Harry snuggles further into the pillow he’s laying his head on. But wait, that’s not a pillow. It’s too firm to be a pillow.

“Shh, Lottie, Harry’s waking up!”

What?

Oh. OH.

It hits Harry that he’s probably still at the Tomlinson house. Oh god, this is embarrassing. Harry almost doesn’t want to open his eyes.

He opens them regardless.

What he sees first is four little girls, all with blue eyes, grinning at him and giggling. Without a word yet, Harry looks up at a beautiful, sleeping Louis. What an adorable boy.

“Harry, are you and Louis in love?” one of the twins, probably Daisy, asks. Harry has come to see Daisy as the more outspoken one, while Phoebe is more shy.

Harry blushes and laughs at Daisy’s question, shaking his head against Louis’ chest.

“No, girls,” Harry laughs, being truthful as he does so. After all, him and Louis aren’t in love. Harry just loves Louis. There’s a difference. “Your brother Louis likes girls, not boys.”

“But you like girl stuff, so you’re pretty much a girl,” Felicite notes. “Plus, Louis talks about you all the time. He’s always like, ‘Harry said this’, and ‘Harry’s so funny’ and ‘Harry has the best hair’. It’s so annoying.”

The other three girls all nod their heads at that statement. Harry blushes and smiles, but he knows that Louis doesn’t like him back. After all, Louis had described the person he fancies as ‘cute and lovely to be around’. And honestly, Harry knows he’s not ugly, but he wouldn’t describe himself as cute. Also, Harry is boring. Not lovely to be around.

“No, Louis doesn’t fancy me,” Harry tells the girls, who all look at him with disappointment in their pretty blue eyes. Why, though? “Don’t look so disappointed.”

“But why are you and Louis cuddling then?” The oldest girl, named Lottie from what Harry had heard earlier, asks.

“Because Louis said so,” Harry shrugs. “Don’t you girls cuddle with your friends?”

The girls all make identical ‘good point’ faces. Ha.

“Why don’t you wanna be in love with Louis?” Phoebe asks.

“Because,” Harry tells her, choosing his words carefully, “being in love sometimes isn’t a good thing. Like, sometimes, the other person doesn’t love you back, and then you get sad.” It's true. Harry is sad that Louis doesn't love him back, but his and Louis' friendship is enough for him Most of the time.

“Is being in love ever a good thing?” Felicite asks, looking scared.

“Duh, Fizzy,” Lottie snaps.

“It was a good question,” Harry says to Lottie. Then, to all the girls, “a lot of times, being in love is wonderful. You date for a while, and when you’re ready, you get married. It’s lovely, you get to spend the rest of your life with the person you love.”

“Do you think I’ll get married to someone I love?” asks Lottie.

“Me too?” asks Fizzy.

Harry laughs. “I think you’ll all find someone you love and get married. Whether it’s a boy or a girl, I just know you guys will be happy with them.”

“Are boys allowed to marry other boys?” Phoebe asks.

“A lot of people don’t like it, but yes, two boys can get married if they want to,” Harry explains. “So can two girls. I hope I can marry a boy I love someday.”

He blushes a little at the end of his statement, even though he's only talking to some little girls. It's just, that's the first time Harry's acknowledged his desire to get married some day out loud. It feels a little weird and embarrassing.

 

“You should marry Louis,” Lottie states matter-of-factly. “Because then you can be, like, our older brother.”

 

And now that the girls have planted the thought in his mind, all Harry can see is him and Louis getting married. Huh. Harry Tomlinson. Harry likes how that sounds. It's a pretty nice thought to have, as long as it's not mentioned aloud. **  
**

 

Harry blushes and looks over at Louis, who is still asleep.

“No girls, I already told you,” Harry says, turning back to the eager faces of the little girls, “me and Louis would have to be in love if we wanted to get married. And, we’re not.”

Harry wishes they were.

The girls all groan, which seems to wake Louis up. His arms momentarily tighten around Harry, and he nuzzles his face into Harry’s curls. Harry feels his heart rate speed up and prays that Louis isn’t conscious enough to feel it, with the way they’re pressed together.

The girls all look at each other and smile before turning back to Harry. Daisy leans over and whispers into Harry’s ear, “You and Louis would be cute as a mommy and daddy” before smiling at him and bounding off to another room, the other giggling girls all in tow.

 **  
** And all Harry can think is, _yeah. We would._


	8. Chapter 8

Harry settles his head back down on Louis’ chest and snuggles into him a bit as Louis wakes up. Harry hears Louis yawn above him and does the same, because yawning is contagious. Louis giggles. Harry giggles as well.

 

 

“You’re warm.” is the first thing that Louis says to Harry. And, okay, Harry's entire heart might have turned to mush. No one has to know.

 

 

“Oh,” Harry croaks, voice still raspy from sleep. Then again, Harry’s voice is usually raspy. “Want me to get off of you?”

 

 

Louis tightens his arms around Harry. “No, I meant it as a good thing.”

 

 

Harry’s heart flutters and he really hopes Louis can’t feel it, hopes Louis doesn’t realize what comments like those do to Harry. It's slightly embarrassing, the effect that this one boy can have on Harry.

 

 

That’s when Harry realizes that, while asleep, his thigh had slipped in between Louis’ legs. _Don’t think about it, Harry. Don’t think about it and get hard if you ever want Louis to talk to you again._

 

 

Louis tugs at a curl on Harry’s head. Well, he’s not helping. Harry desperately thinks about gross things, Like Niall’s dirty socks and the spider he saw a few days ago. It seems to be working, because now Harry is trying not to cringe thinking about a spider wearing Niall’s dirty socks. Way to go, Styles.

 

 

“You’re still wearing my flowers,” Harry notes, mind anywhere but where him and Louis are pressed together. He looks up at Louis, who’s nodding cheerfully.

 

 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Louis asks. Harry shakes his head and lays down once again on Louis’ warm, comfortable chest. “I, uh, like your jumper,” Louis suddenly complements.

 

 

“Thank you,” Harry mumbles, feeling the slow rise and fall of Louis’ lungs beneath him. Even Louis’ breathing is beautiful. How is that even possible?

 

 

And suddenly, Harry is aware of where his and Louis’ legs are slotted together. Not because Harry’s hard, no. Because, oh god.

 

 

He feels a hard line pressed against his hip. And he’s certain that’s not Louis’ phone.

 

 

“Louis?” he whispers tentatively. Louis can’t be hard, no. That’s not right. That's just... _no_.

 

 

“Oh, god,” Louis whimpers. Harry looks up, confused and a little scared and nervous, to see Louis burying his face in his hands. “You can feel that, can’t you?”

 

 

Harry laughs, ridiculously loud and obnoxious, because he’s confused and embarrassed. Why is Louis hard? Everything is weird, Harry thinks.

 

 

“I’m so sorry,” Louis apologizes into his hands. The parts of Louis’ face that aren’t hidden are bright red. Harry almost feels bad for him. “I just haven’t got off with anyone in a while. I’m a little… excitable right now, I guess. God, this is so embarrassing.”

 

 

Harry laughs, loud and awkward once again. This time, though, it’s because he’s slightly disappointed. I mean, he knows Louis wouldn’t get hard because of Harry, but a boy can dream, can’t he? But no. Of course, Louis just hasn’t gotten off with anyone lately. That makes perfect sense.

 

 

Louis’ saving himself for that stupid girl he likes. Whoever she is, Harry hates her.

 

 

Harry’s also a little worried because being here, right on top of Louis, while Louis is hard, is really fucking hot. Like, Harry’s-gonna-get-a-boner hot.

 

 

“Do you wanna go… get that fixed?” Harry asks, not quite sure how to phrase his question. He wants to let Louis know that he can go to the bathroom for a quick wank, or even just to splash his face with cold water and think of spiders until it goes away.

 

 

“Uh, yeah,” Louis mumbles, drawing his hands from his face, not meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry doesn’t blame him.

 

 

Without a word, Harry gets up off of the poor, hard boy. He can’t help but take a quick glance at the front of Louis’ pants.

 

 

God.

 

 

Louis’ face is bright red as he adjusts his loose sweatpants. He shoots Harry a smile that says ‘I’m really embarrassed and in a lot of pain right now’ and rushes into the other room. Harry guesses he’s heading to the bathroom.

 

 

As Harry watches Louis’ perfect little ass round the corner, he desperately tries not to think about the fact that Louis’ hard, clothed cock was just pressed against his own hip. Harry tries to think about something nasty once again, like vaginas, but all that he can think about is Louis getting a boner while the two boys were pressed so close together. It’s just so hot, regardless of the fact that Harry himself hadn't caused it. Harry sits back down on the couch slowly, lost in his thoughts. Louis is _hard_. It’s unbelievable.

 

 

Just as Harry’s starting to panic because he can feel his own cock gaining interest, he hears a small “Oh” from the kitchen area.

 

 

Turning his head, Harry catches sight of a woman, with the same blue eyes as the rest of the Tomlinson family, standing in the kitchen. She’s just staring at Harry, dressed in a tee shirt and a pair of jeans, looking rather confused at the random teenage boy in her living room.

 

 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Harry’s not quite sure what he’s apologizing for, but it feels necessary. He runs a hand through his tangled curls. “I’m Louis’ friend. He, uh, asked me to come over because he’s sick. I’m Harry.”

 

 

Wow, what a lovely first impression, Harry. A for effort. Harry’s awkwardness seems to endear Louis’ mum a bit though, because her confused expression softens and melts into a motherly smile.

  
  
“Oh, hello Harry, I’ve heard all about you,” she tells him. A look of sheepishness crosses her face, and she continues, “I probably wasn’t supposed to say that. Anyway, where’s Louis?”

 

 

Harry can feel himself blush as he answers. “He went to the bathroom.”

 

 

Anne looks a little skeptical at the color painting Harry’s cheeks, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she asks Harry, “Can I get you anything, honey? Can’t imagine Louis or any of the girls offered you anything.”

 

 

Harry smiles, shaking his head. “They’re all sweet. Could I just have a glass of water, please?”

 

 

Anne nods and turns to the cabinets. Harry stays seated at the couch, not quite sure what to do. Thankfully, his conversation with Louis’ mum has distracted him from any thoughts of Louis’ cock. He pulls his phone out of his pocket because he has nothing better to do and checks the time.

 

 

It’s three o’clock. Harry has a text from Niall and one from his mum as well.

 

 

From Nialler:

 

Wanna hang out ?

 

 

Oops. That one was sent at about 12. Sorry, Niall.

 

 

To Nialler:

Can’t, sorry. I’m at Louis’ house.

 

 

Harry checks the text from his mum.

 

 

From Mum:

Hope you’re having a good time at Louis’ house, tell him to get well soon. When should I come pick you up? Love you xx

 

 

Harry doesn’t know how to answer that. If it were his own choice he would never go home, would stay here and cuddle Louis forever. Though, he doesn’t think Louis or Louis’ mum would very well enjoy that. The girls probably would, though. Harry really likes those girls.

 

 

“Here you go, Harry,” Louis’ mum says, handing Harry a glass of water. Harry thanks her and takes a sip from it.

 

 

“When do you want me to go home?” Harry asks her. She looks at him with kind eyes.

 

 

“I don’t mind, you can stay as long as you want,” she tells Harry. “Ask Louis.”

 

 

“Okay. Thank you,” Harry responds. Louis’ mum smiles and walks off somewhere else.

 

 

It suddenly occurs to Harry that he’s in the same house, only a few rooms away from Louis. While Louis is wanking. The thought makes Harry feel a little uncomfortable and a lot turned on. Just, wow, Louis. Wanking. That’s the hottest thing Harry could ever imagine.

 

 

Thankfully, Harry receives a text from Niall before he can think about this any further.

 

 

From Nialler:

What ? Why ?

 

 

From Nialler:

Are you guys shagging

 

 

Harry blushes at the text and types out a quick ‘no you idiot’. He doesn’t mention the fact that Louis is wanking a few rooms away. He also doesn’t mention the fact that Louis got hard during their cuddle.

 

 

After a few more excruciatingly long minutes Harry hears footsteps and then a highly embarrassed Louis rounds the corner into the room. He looks at Harry and shoots him that same pained smile as before.

 

 

“Can we just pretend that never happened?” Louis asks. Harry laughs and nods, feeling second-hand embarrassment towards the poor boy.

 

 

“When would you like me to go home?” Harry asks. He gestures towards his phone as he explains, “Mum wants to know.”

 

 

Louis wrinkles his nose for a second in thought, and it’s adorable. After all, Louis is always adorable. “Um, let me ask my mum.”

 

 

“I already asked her,” Harry tells Louis quickly. “She said she doesn’t care.”

 

 

Louis just stares at Harry for a moment with an odd expression on his beautiful face. “What exactly did my mum say?” he asks, seeming almost reluctant to ask the words.

 

“She just said that she doesn’t care and that I should ask you,” Harry explains.

 

 

“Oh, okay,” Louis chirps, seeming to be able to breathe again. Harry can’t help but wonder what that was all about, but he doesn’t ask. “Well, I don’t really care either. When do you wanna go home?”

 

 

 _Never_. “I don’t know.”

 

 

Louis walks over to the couch and sits down a little farther from Harry than is necessary. Harry understands. After all, Harry would be embarrassed and feel awkward as well if he got hard while cuddling with Louis.

 

 

“Are you feeling any better?” Harry asks.

 

 

“A little. Still got a shitty headache, though,” Louis answers. He wrinkles his nose again, this time seemingly in distaste.

 

 

“Aww,” Harry coos. He reaches over and strokes at Louis’ hair. He’s kind of prepared to be pushed away, because normally Harry isn’t the one initiating contact. Usually it’s Louis who won’t get his hands off of Harry. Harry’s not real sure how far he would have to go to cross the line.

 

 

Louis doesn’t push him away, however. Instead, Louis closes his eyes as Harry runs his fingers through Louis’ feathery, wonderful hair. It’s a little bit awkward, because Harry has to stretch his arm out all the way to be able to reach the pretty boy beside him. To fix this, Harry scoots toward Louis a little bit on the couch.

 

 

A small smile forms on Louis’ face, and Harry’s not sure why, but he looks so beautiful. It’s almost unreal. Harry is astounded by how pretty Louis is and how much Harry loves him.

 

 

“Wanna watch telly.” Louis phrases it like a question, but says it like a statement. Harry removes his hand from Louis’ lovely hair and takes Louis’ words as a cue to search for a remote. He stands and searches around the room until he finds it.

 

 

Louis reaches for it and grabs it from Harry, turning on the telly. Harry sits back on the couch a respectable distance from the cuddly-looking boy, watching Louis rather than the TV at first.

 

 

Louis finally seems to choose something he likes after a few minutes. Harry’s never seen the show before, it’s something American that he’s never heard of. Still, he would much rather watch Louis than the show itself. Louis is just ridiculously pretty and Harry is so fucking in love.

 

 

Harry makes somewhat of a game of it. He’ll look over at Louis, and when Louis turns to look at him, Harry will turn away. This goes on for as many times as possible without Harry getting caught. He’s only gotten caught twice so far, and he’s pretty damn proud of himself.

 

 

At some point, probably about halfway through whatever show they’re watching, Harry turns to look at Louis and finds Louis already looking back. The boy is smiling this tiny little smile that makes Harry want to kiss him so bad, and he almost does. He leans forward a little - Louis probably doesn’t even notice - when he thinks of his first and only kiss. Immediately, he stops. That can’t happen again. No, not with Louis.

 

 

Louis, however, seems completely oblivious to Harry’s thought process. He just looks at Harry with sleepy eyes, seeming to study Harry’s face. Harry tries to keep his expression blank, tries not to let Louis see into his thoughts.

 

 

“Wanna cuddle,” Louis whispers. Once again, it’s phrased like a question but spoken like a statement. Harry loves the way Louis talks, just like he loves everything about Louis.

“Okay,” Harry whispers back. He’s not sure why they’re whispering. It just feels like, if either of them were to talk too loud right now, it would shatter the beautiful peacefulness  that surrounds them.

 

 

Louis reaches his arms out and leans over, wrapping them around Harry’s waist and dragging Harry closer to himself. All of Harry’s nerves feel hypersensitive. Harry rests his head on Louis’ shoulder and lets Louis hold him. The moment feels almost unreal.

 

 

They stay like that for a long time, just the two boys cuddled together on the end of the couch. Louis has come to rest his cheek on top of Harry’s hair, still wearing Harry’s flower crown. To Harry, everything feels beautiful and peaceful and lovely.

 

 

And that’s how Louis’ mum finds them.

 

 

Neither of the boys notice when she walks into the room. Harry’s eyes are glued to the telly, because him and Louis are too close now to play his little game. He’s guessing Louis is watching the telly as well.

 

 

“You boys look comfy,” Louis’ mum teases when neither of the boys acknowledge her presence. Harry turns his head to look at her, Louis doing the same. Harry offers an embarrassed smile.

 

 

“Go away, mum, you’re embarrassing,” Louis groans, making Harry giggle. Not able to resist, Harry looks up at the beautiful boy above him. Louis’ features are slightly shadowed from the light of the TV screen, making his cheekbones stand out. Shadows are cast across his skin by his perfect eyelashes, and Harry has never had the urge to make art before, but now he wants to paint four hundred pictures of this amazing boy.

 

 

Love is terrible.

 

 

Suddenly Harry’s phone rings, shattering Harry’s thoughts and making him jump a little in Louis’ arms.

 

 

He digs his stupid phone out of his pocket, eyes on Louis’ mum, who’s still just looking at them with an amused expression.

 

 

“Hello, mum,” Harry speaks into the phone after checking the caller ID.

 

 

“Hi, sweetie,” Anne responds. “It’s almost four, do you want me to come pick you up?”

 

 

Harry glances at Louis. The truthful response would be no. Instead Harry gives his mum a ‘one sec’ and lowers the phone, eyes on Louis.

 

 

“Mum wants to know if she should pick me up,” he explains. A series of different expressions cross Louis’ face, all going by too quick for Harry to discern what any of them actually are. Finally Louis looks at him with a relatively blank expression.

 

 

“I mean, you’ve been here for a while, I’d understand if you wanna go home,” he says, tone and face blank and expressionless.

 

 

“Okay,” Harry responds. He attempts to make his tone blank like Louis’, but he knows it comes out a little disappointed. He can’t help it. He really doesn’t want to go home.

 

 

“Okay, yeah, you can come pick me up,” Harry tells his mum through the phone.

 

 

***

 

When Harry hears a knock on the door a while later his heart drops down to his shoes. Him and Louis are still cuddled up on the couch in the same exact position as before, and he really, really doesn’t want to move.

 

 

 

Louis and Harry let the girls answer the door, welcoming Harry’s mum in. Then they listen as Anne and Louis’ mum talk for a bit. Harry can’t hear what they’re saying exactly, they’re talking in rather hushed tones, but Harry just guesses they’re talking about normal mum stuff. Cleaning detergents or whatever the hell mums talk about.

 

 

 

Sadly, though, Harry can’t stall forever. He slowly stretches his arms out, making sure Louis’ arms stay around him as he does so. Harry looks over at Louis, who’s already looking back, and flashes a small smile. Louis does so too, then retracts his arms from around Harry’s waist and allows Harry to stand up.

 

 

Harry hates the feeling of loss that he gets when Louis does that, but he ignores it and stands up.

 

 

“Bye, Louis,” he says, trying not to sound sad. “Thanks for having me over.”

 

 

“Thanks for bringing me soup and being able to stand the girls,” Louis responds. "Bye, flower boy."

 

Hm. Flower boy. That's a new, cute one. Harry likes it.

 

Speaking of flowers, Louis is still wearing Harry's flower crown, perched at a jaunty angle on top of his fluffy hair. If Harry's honest, he loves seeing Louis like this. He thinks he can wait to get the flower crown back until Monday.

 

 

Harry smiles and waves one last time before walking down the hall, away from the love of his life.

 

 

***

 

 

School on Monday is a little hectic.

 

 

Harry joins Nick once again on the radio station, where they talk about boybands and the worst actors. It’s really fun and Harry finds himself laughing more than actually contributing to the conversation. Nick is funny.

 

 

When Harry walks out of the recording room thing with Nick, he’s still feeling happy. He doesn’t fancy Nick, but he can’t deny that Nick is funny and cute. It's almost like how he can tell when girls are pretty, but that doesn't mean he likes them. 

 

 

Suddenly there's a flash of brown and blue and Harry is getting something crammed down on his head, slightly painfully so.

 

 

"Ow! What the... Louis!" Harry exclaims. Louis grins at him and Harry melts a little, grin itching at his own face.

 

 

"I forgot to give it back," Louis explains. Harry reaches up and lifts the lavender ring of flowers off of his curls.

 

 

"Oh, thanks," he says. He's actually kind of glad Louis gave that to him right now, because Harry didn't have enough time to grab a flower crown this morning. Taking in what Louis is wearing, Harry notices that he's adorned one of those obnoxious varsity jackets that the football players always wear. One of the ones with their last name - in Louis' case, 'Tomlinson' - stitched on the back. The blue fabric of it brings out Louis' gorgeous eyes.

 

 

"I'll see you around, Harold," Nick cuts in. He reaches over as if to give Harry a hug, but hesitates. Harry hates it when people hesitate around him. He would rather be one of those people everyone feels comfortable around.

 

 

Naturally, he turns to Nick and holds out his arms to show the older boy that _hey, it's okay_. Nick smiles and puts his arms around Harry's shoulders, Harry's going around Nick's middle for a second before pulling away.

 

 

"Bye, _Grimmy,_ " Harry teases. Nick hates the name. Harry started calling Nick 'Grimmy' lately because Nick won't stop calling him 'Harold'.

 

 

Nick hits Harry lightly on the arm. "Bye, _Harold_."

 

 

Harry rolls his eyes and waves Nick off, turning back to Louis. Louis, who's got this odd expression written across the clench of his jaw and the crease between his eyebrows. However, as soon as Harry spots it, it's wiped from Louis' face and replaced by his normal soft smile.

 

 

Harry can't place the expression that previously crossed Louis' face, somewhere between something like anger and maybe... guilt? Harry's never been good at reading expressions.

 

 

"Do you dislike Nick?" Harry asks. That's the only real conclusion he can draw from Louis' consistent odd behavior around the senior.

 

 

"Um. Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I don't like Grimshaw," Louis stutters. Harry's never seen him act like this before, not meeting Harry's eyes and stuttering as he talks. Except for that one time a few days ago when Louis got hard while they were cuddling, but Harry can't think about that without popping a boner. Nevertheless, Louis' acting unfairly adorable. Harry can't help but reach over and ruffle Louis' hair.

 

 

"Why not? He's super nice and funny," Harry tells Louis. He doesn't want two of his new friends disliking each other. Especially if it would end in Harry having to choose between them, because he doesn't want to hurt Nick's feelings.

 

 

"I don't know," Louis shrugs. Harry doesn't understand, but he chooses to just leave it at that.

 

 

***

 

 

_Harry, I feel like a complete and total loser. I fancy you so bad, but I've noticed that you fancy someone else and I always feel so angry at that person. He's such a lovely person though, I just don't like him because you fancy him and it's not fair. I really want you to notice me. If only I had the guts to tell you who I am. But I don't, because I'm weak. For now, I guess writing you these notes is enough. Yours even though you don't know it, A Secret Admirer._

 

Harry stares at the note. Doesn't read over it more than once, just stares. Because, wow, someone knows he fancies Louis. And someone hates Louis for it. As much as Harry dislikes the thought of someone hating Louis, he feels unbelievably flattered that someone could hate lovely, lovely Louis just because Harry fancies him.

 

 

And, wow. The note just seems so emotional, like someone poured their heart and soul into it. Harry needs to find whoever's writing these and marry him.

 

 

And honestly, whatever sweet, adorable boy is writing these really does deserve better than Harry. So why did they choose Harry? Why did they choose the unpopular flower boy with only a few friends? Why not one of the hot popular boys? Why not one of the hot popular _girls_?

 

 

Harry smiles a lot that day.

 

 

***

 

 

During lunch, Harry is sitting with Niall while they both wait for Zayn. The raven-haired boy still hasn't entered the cafeteria, even though he was there during second hour science.

 

 

"Where is that bastard?" Niall asks in his thick Irish accent. Harry shrugs, looking around the cafeteria until he spots Louis. The lovely boy is laughing at something one of his friends said, nose crinkled and cheeks a little pink. Harry smiles softly.

 

 

And then Zayn is walking into the cafeteria, holding two slips of paper in his hand. He rushes up to Niall and Harry's table, expression stressed and nervous.

 

 

"Guys," Zayn squeaks. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

 

 

Harry tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows as Niall asks, "What?"

 

 

"I got... I got these. For me. And Liam," Zayn admits. His cheeks are freckled with pink and he shows the slips of paper to his two best friends.

 

 

Harry gapes at the VIP tickets to the Ed Sheeran tour. They look like they cost a fortune.

 

 

"How the hell did you afford those?" Niall asks incredulously, eyeing the tickets like they cost more than his entire existence.

 

 

"I came out to my parents, and they were so proud of me that they payed half. I payed the other half with my money from the coffee shop," Zayn explains. Harry remembers Zayn telling him and Niall about working at the coffee shop, not because he's poor but because he needs the money for cigarettes. Harry never really approved of Zayn's smoking habit, but he doesn't bother telling Zayn to stop. Because, of course, that's Zayn decision.

 

Also, Harry's a little surprised that Zayn came out to his parents and didn't tell Harry and Niall right away. They both congratulate the boy and give him hugs before focusing back on the more pressing matter.

 

 

"Are you gonna give them to him or what?" Harry asks. He glances over to where Liam's perched on a chair next to Louis, smiling and not saying much.

 

 

"Um, yeah, alright," Zayn says slowly. "I'm gonna go. You guys are going to comfort me when I get rejected."

Harry watches as Zayn saunters, seeming terribly nervous, over to Liam's table. He says something to Liam and they both get up, walking out of the cafeteria.

 

 

Niall looks over at Harry with an expression of sadness for Zayn. "No offense, mate, but I'm kind of preparing to watch Zayn cry for the first time."

 

 

"Hey, have some faith," Harry tuts. If he's honest, he has no idea what the outcome is going to be. He'll just have to wait and see.

 

 

***

 

 

Zayn doesn't return to the lunch room for the rest of the hour, and Harry is slightly scared for the boy by the time he's heading to his next class. After all, he'd been expecting Zayn to walk back to them either smiling or with wet eyes within a few minutes.

 

 

Oh god, please don't say Liam beat Zayn up.

 

 

Harry drags his feet to his locker to collect his books and then starts walking to his English class. To be honest, he really doesn't feel like learning about Romeo and Juliet right now, but hey, that's not really his decision. He's just about to open the door to his classroom when he hears a voice.

 

 

"Harry!" Comes the hissing whisper. Harry turns around and sees a gorgeous, grinning Louis. The boy looks somewhat mischievous, and it makes Harry a bit nervous.

 

 

"Hi, Louis," he greets in a normal voice, louder than the one Louis was using. Louis holds a finger to his lips and gestures for Harry to follow him.

 

 

Harry hesitates before allowing Louis to lead him back the way he came, not quite sure what's happening. Finally they come to a corner, and Louis glances around it before looking back at Harry, seeming to try and hold in a giggle. He gestures for Harry to look around the corner.

 

 

When he does, Harry almost bursts out laughing. Because there, in an abandoned hallway with only a storage room and an unused classroom lining it, is Liam. Liam, who is pressing a certain raven-haired boy up against the glossy white wall. At first glance, Harry is almost sure Liam is hurting Zayn, judging by the way Zayn seems frozen and helpless. But then Harry realizes that no, Liam's not trying to hurt Zayn. They're snogging. Hardcore, press-you-against-the-wall-and-suck-your-face-off snogging.

 

 

Harry turns to Louis and gapes, corners of his mouth turned up in a helpless smile. Louis nods vigorously, seemingly agreeing to Harry's pleased surprise.

 

 

"Should we let them know we're here?" Louis whispers into Harry's ear. His mouth isn't close enough to brush Harry's skin, but Harry can feel Louis' breath ghost across the shell of his ear, making him shiver. Harry glances back around the corner to the two snogging boys, both with eyes closed. He almost gags as he watches Liam's tongue lick languidly into Zayn's mouth, but Zayn seems to be enjoying it enough.

 

 

Harry turns back to Louis and shakes his head, wanting to let one of his best friends have this. After all, he would probably be willing to murder if someone were to interrupt him while he was snogging Louis. Not as if that will ever happen, but still.

 

 

Harry and Louis tiptoe away from their respective best friends as they hear one of the boys let out a low moan. Once again, Harry almost gags. He's happy for Zayn, but seriously, keep it in your pants.

 

 

Once they're out of earshot both Louis and Harry burst out in giggles, Harry having to lean against the lockers. Louis doubles over, hands on his knees.

 

 

"Looks like now there's three gays in our year," Harry announces proudly. He stands up a little taller thinking about how now he's not the only one, even if Liam and Zayn don't come out for a while. At least he's not alone.

 

 

Louis just nods, wiping at his eyes. "God, you have no idea how funny this is. Just a week ago, I asked Liam if he would like to snog Zayn and he's all like 'no, ew, no way'! I knew he was lying. Ha, that bastard."

 

 

Harry laughs and shakes his head. "I have to go to English now, but thank you for showing me that. I'll be teasing Zayn for years about that one."

 

 

He gives Louis a smile and a lingering glance before hurrying off to English class.

***

 

 

That afternoon, when Harry is walking out of the school, he hears a sudden commotion. When he listens closer, his eyes go wide. A bunch of people are calling his name.

 

 

"Harry!"

 

 

"Harry Styles!"

 

 

Harry cringes and turns around. Okay, now he's even more confused. Running toward him are a bunch of the popular girls. More specifically, the cheerleading team.

 

 

"Oh, um, hey," Harry greets confusedly when they catch up to him.

 

 

"Harry, are you coming to the game on Friday?" one of the girls asks.

 

 

"It's the last one of the season!" another girl exclaims. All of the girls look at him with heavily mascara'd, expectant eyes.

 

 

"Why?" is all Harry can think to ask. Because, seriously, why do these girls care if he's coming or not?

 

 

"Well..." that one girl, Julia, begins shyly. "You made the team win the last game, and we thought you might want to come hang out with us during our breaks and stuff. Maybe come up with some new cheers or something."

 

 

Harry feels flattered beyond belief that the girls want to hang out with him. There is one question nagging at the back of his mind, though.

 

 

"Why me?" Harry asks. "I bet a ton of Louis' friends would like to hang out with you guys."

 

 

A collective eye roll passes through the group at the mention of Louis' friends.

 

 

"Those guys are jerks," one of the girls - Harry thinks her name is Sophie - explains. "All they want is to get in our pants. And, like, we have some self respect, you know? Plus, you're gay, so we can all talk about cute boys together."

 

 

The girls all smile and nod along with Sophie's statement. Harry thinks the last statement was a bit stereotypical, but he can't deny the fact that he loves the chance to talk about cute boys. Their words also make him feel like maybe being gay isn't so bad after all.

 

 

"Um, okay, I'll come," he tells the group of smiling girls. They all cheer and give him hugs, some smudging kisses against his cheeks. One thing he’ll never understand about girls is the constant need to kiss people. It’s a little weird, but oddly comforting.

 

 

 _Alright_ , Harry thinks, _looks like I’ll be a cheerleader once again._

 

 

And, though he won’t admit it to himself, he’ll only be cheering for one boy in particular. A certain boy with soft, feathery hair and pretty blue eyes. A certain boy who makes his heartbeat go insane whenever he’s around. A certain boy who Harry really, really loves. A certain boy who will never, ever love Harry back.

 

A certain boy whose name is Louis.


	9. Chapter 9

That evening Harry’s sitting on the couch, eyes half-lidded when his phone buzzes.

From Louis:

The girls keep asking when you're coming back ha xx

Harry smiles at that, remembering the bright-eyed Tomlinson girls. Those little girls might be the death of him. That is, if Louis doesn’t kill him first.

To Louis:

What are you telling them? Xx

From Louis:

I told them I don't know, Daisy and Phoebe keep saying you should come play princess with them because they say you're like a girl, ha (: xx

Harry laughs, shaking his head fondly. Those little girls.

To Louis:

Tell them I am very much a boy and I've got the components to prove it haha .xx

From Louis:

Please don't prove it to my sisters. They may be scarred for life xx

Harry feels a little offended, but in that way that Louis makes him feel. Like he should be offended, but since it's Louis he just feels bubbly like a little schoolgirl.

To Louis:

I'm offended. How dare you .xx

From Louis:

Wasn't trying to offend, they've just never seen a cock before x

From Louis:

At least I think...

Harry bursts out laughing at that. Well, it's more like a giggle than a laugh. Texting Louis just makes him feel all light and giggly and happy.

To Louis:

I would hope they haven't .x

From Louis:

Ha, I might have to kill someone if they have .xx

Suddenly, Harry remembers his short encounter with the cheerleaders. He quickly types out another text to Louis.

To Louis:

Oh yeah, the cheerleaders told me to come to your game this Friday .x

From Louis:

I didn’t know you were friends with them ?

Harry furrows his eyebrows. Does Louis not want him at the game?

To Louis:

I’m not. Is it okay that I’m coming? xx

He sends it, even though the wording is a little suggestive sounding. Louis will ignore it anyway, hopefully.

From Louis:

Of course it is, I was just a little confused that’s all. Why do they want you to go?

To Louis:

They said it’s because I’m gay and I won’t try and get in their pants. Plus they said we can ‘talk about cute boys’ .xx

Louis takes a rather long time to  answer. Well, it’s actually only a few minutes, but to Harry it feels like an eternity. When his phone finally lights up, Harry all but pounces on it. Not that he’ll ever admit to that fact.

From Louis:

Which boys will you be taking about ? Haha xx

Harry thinks it’s a bit of an odd question, also doesn’t know if he should take it seriously. He decides on a vague answer that works whether Louis meant the question or not.

To Louis:

The world may never know .x

From Louis:

….. You suck.

Harry grins and types out a cheeky response.

To Louis:

I know. I’m rather good at it too.

Laughing at himself, Harry sends the text. It’s not like he’s actually ever sucked cock before, but that doesn’t mean he can’t joke about it. That also doesn’t mean that he hasn’t looked up how to do it quite a few times. What, he wants to be prepared.

From Louis:

Harry

From Louis:

Did you just…

Harry giggles and texts back eagerly.

To Louis:

I did.

From Louis:

Why do I even talk to you ? xx

To Louis:

Because I’m amazing obviously .x

From Louis:

Sure… I gotta go, see you tomorrow Curly (: xx

Harry smiles at Louis’ silly little nickname for him. It’s cute, especially because Louis made it up. Everything Louis does is cute. It’s a little unfair.

***

Tuesday passes in a blur of Louis being cute and Niall being his usual smiling self. Zayn isn't at school that day, though Liam is and Harry can't help but wonder why Zayn isn't there. He tries calling but the boy doesn't answer, so he gives up.

And then it's Wednesday, and Zayn comes to school smiley and happy like Harry's never seen him before.

"Wow, Zayn, why the long face?" Niall asks him teasingly as they walk into the school together. Zayn just shrugs and laughs, skin around his amber eyes crinkling in a way that Harry rarely sees from Zayn.

About halfway through the day it starts to rain, which worries Harry because walking home in the rain is not something he rather likes doing. He's a little grumpy as he walks into the lunch room.

Plopping his shit down next to Niall, Harry sits forcefully in his chair and mumbles a 'hello' to the Irish boy. Niall gives him a quizzical look, but Harry ignores him, too grumpy to talk.

Zayn sets his food down next to Harry and perches happily in a chair. There's a sort of buzzing air around him, an excitement that Harry's never seen from Zayn before.

“Guys, oh my god,” he starts, but Niall quickly cuts him off.

“Why weren’t you here yesterday?” Niall asks, eyeing Zayn suspiciously.

“Didn’t feel like coming to school,” Zayn shrugs innocently and continues. “But seriously, guys, guess what.”

“What?” Harry and Niall ask in unison. Harry already knows what’s coming, but he doesn’t want to ruin it for Zayn so he just pretends to be excited.

“Okay, so I showed the tickets to Liam and asked him to come with me, right?” Zayn asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer before adding, “And he just stares at me for a moment. And then all of a sudden he shoves me into a wall, and I was, like, 100 percent sure he was gonna beat me up. But then he just starts snogging me.”

Niall cackles while Harry cheers, thumping Zayn on the back in congratulations.

“Way to go, man!” Harry congratulates. He thinks in the back of his mind he always kind of knew that nobody, not even Liam Payne, could say no to Zayn. It's something about the way Zayn is dark and quiet, a blocked-off air about him, yet he can be so happy and lovely when the time comes. It's something about the way Zayn's face seems to have been sculpted by the gods, yet he doesn't act like a twit just because he's better looking than pretty much everyone in the school. Harry is sure that nobody, not even Harry himself, could ever say no to Zayn.

“No, that’s not all,” Zayn smirks ominously. “So I still wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to go because he didn’t actually say yes, so I asked him, like, so are we going or not?” - he takes a breath and continues - “And you know what he said?”

Zayn looks at Harry and Niall, tan skin tinted pink as he pauses. Harry and Niall wait with baited breath, both wondering what crazy thing Liam could have said to get Zayn to blush like this.

“He goes, ‘I’ll go if you let me suck you off in the bathrooms’,” Zayn finishes. All is silent for a beat, two, until Niall whispers,

“Well? Did you?”

Zayn just buries his face in his hands and nods somewhat sheepishly, skin going from a light pink to a darker red hue.

“Oh my god, Zayn!” Harry cackles, slapping Zayn’s arm. He’ll never admit it, but he’s a tiny bit jealous. He wants to get sucked off in the school bathrooms. Or any bathroom, really. Or anywhere at all. Niall giggles along, face red and hands drumming on the table as he laughs.

“Guys, no, shut up!” Zayn suddenly hisses, looking somewhere in front of himself. Niall and Harry follow his line of vision until they see Liam. Harry immediately hides a laugh in his hand.

And then Liam is walking not toward his usual table, but over to the table Harry and his friends are sitting at. All three boys go stock-still as he approaches, a slow grin spreading across Niall’s face as he seemingly tries not to laugh.

“Um, hi,” Liam greets awkwardly when he gets to their table.

“Hi?” Harry doesn’t know why his voice tilts up at the end, he’s just confused. Because, seriously, _why_ is Liam here?

“Oh, yeah,” Zayn suddenly pipes up. “I forgot to tell you guys, Liam is sitting with us today. That’s okay, right?”

Harry and Niall nod, giving the okay. Liam tentatively sits across from the three boys and Zayn slides over to the other side of the table to sit by him, and all is silent for a few seconds. It’s terribly awkward, and thick tension hangs in the air like smoke until Niall says something about football. After that, Liam, Zayn, and Niall are all hitting it off like besties.

Harry just looks onto the conversation, not really knowing what any of them are talking about, but he doesn’t really mind. He’d rather sit and watch anyway, because he tends to say stupid things and embarrass himself a lot.

Liam actually turns out to be a rather lovely guy, he’s smart and nice and funny. The best part is that he makes Zayn blush and giggle like a maniac, which entertains Harry and Niall to no end. Zayn has somewhat of the same effect on Liam, but Liam spends most of the hour trying to make Zayn laugh.

About halfway through the lunch hour, while the four boys are engaged in a conversation about healthy food versus shit food, none other than Louis Tomlinson walks up to their table.

“Um, hi, guys,” he greets, giving them a small smile before turning to Liam. “Why are you sitting here, Li? Are you angry with me?”

“No!” Liam assures, shaking his head vigorously. “I’m just sitting with these guys because Zayn and I wanted to hang out today.”

 

And Harry can tell that Liam has already informed Louis of the whole Zayn story. Because Louis' eyebrows raise, his pink lips forming an amused half-smirk as he looks in between Zayn and Liam, who are sitting rather closer together than is considered bro-like.

“Okay,” Louis says, that smirk giving his tone a bit of a smug sound. Harry thinks that's kind of hot. Louis looks away from Liam and catches sight of Harry, who quickly tries to hide his lust and fondness for the small boy. “Hello, Harry.”

“Hi,” Harry smiles. He might die from the way Louis says his name, drawing out the first syllable and using a tone that makes it sound as if he’s talking to a dog or a small child. It’s unbelievably cute. And Harry loves how naturally it flows out of Louis' mouth, like a melody he's sang many times before, memorizing every dip and upbeat in that single word.

“Do you guys mind if I…” Louis gestures to the empty chairs at the table. Harry nods his head vigorously, motioning for Louis to sit down. Louis follows and, to almost everyone at the table’s surprise, takes the seat next to Harry instead of the seat next to Liam. Liam is Louis' best mate, after all, but Harry's not complaining when Louis perches on a chair next to him, warmth and the smell of sweet cologne radiating off of his body.

It’s silent for a few moments and Harry wants to break the tension. He also wants to make Louis laugh. After thinking for a second, he spits out, “Knock knock.”

Niall groans, sinking down in his chair. Zayn rolls his eyes and Liam just stares at Zayn, seemingly entranced as he mumbles a ‘who’s there?’. Louis, ever the lovely one, cheerfully asks, “Who’s there?”

“Little old lady,” Harry says, trying to hold in a laugh. Niall groans again.

“Harry, you’ve told this one a million-” Harry cuts the blonde boy off with a hand over his mouth.

“Little old lady who?” Liam and Louis ask. Harry giggles and then spits:

“I didn’t know you could yodel!”

It’s all quiet for a moment until Liam scoffs, rolling his eyes but chuckling. Niall licks Harry’s hand - ew - and Harry makes a face before wiping it on his pants. Zayn smiles and scoffs as well.

Harry looks over at Louis, who’s eyebrows are furrowed in confusion.

“Little old lady wh - oooohhhhh!!” Louis yells, giggling loudly. Harry stares at Louis, entranced by the pretty curve of Louis’ grin and the melodic sound of the giggle falling from Louis’ lips. The little crinkles by his eyes make Harry feel like human jello.

“That wasn’t even funny,” Niall scoffs. Zayn nods in agreement. “Why are you even laughing?”

Louis shrugs. “It’s just funny when Harry says stupid things.” He pats Harry on the arm, a smile that he's seemingly attempting to hold in pushing at his lips. Harry should be insulted, but he just feels light and happy and wonderful, because Louis is sitting by him at lunch and touching him and giggling at his jokes and everything just feels right.

The rest of the lunch hour passes rather quickly, and only at the end of it does Harry realize that, with the excitement of everything, he completely forgot to eat. Honestly, he doesn’t even care.

Louis leaves a few minutes early in the pretext that he “has to do something”, which is a little questionable but it’s really none of Harry’s business. So he stays out of it. Harry watches that perfect bum as it rounds the corner out of the room, then turns back to the table. Niall is eating something, Zayn is on his phone, and Liam is staring at Harry incriminatingly.

 

"Harry Styles, what have you done to my best friend?" he asks, crease between his eyebrows and finger pointing at Harry threateningly.

 

"Wait, what?"

 

"What have you done to Louis?" Liam rephrases. Not waiting for an answer from a very confused Harry, he continues, "He acts so fucking weird around you."

 

"What?" Harry asks again, more confused than ever. Louis has always treated him the same, Harry doesn't see anything weird about the way Louis acts around him.

 

"You told a stupid joke and he laughed," Liam states in an accusatory way. "If I had told that joke, he might've punched me in the face. Also, why does he talk to you like you're a little kid? It's weird."

 

Harry has never really payed any mind to it, but now that he thinks about it, yeah. Louis' voice is a little soft when he talks to Harry, but Harry just thought he talked like that to everyone. And now he's just confused, because why would Louis, who has a crush on some random girl with the initials FB, talk to _Harry_ like that?

 

"I guess I never really noticed before," Harry tells Liam honestly. Liam's face softens for some reason and he nods, not saying anything more for the last few minutes of the hour.

 

***

The rest of the day passes by quickly, and the rain doesn’t let up at all. To make up for his bad mood Harry receives another note, this one much less wordy than the rest of them.

_Please help. I want to snog you against a wall and it’s really not healthy for me to be thinking about you this much. Yours, A Secret Admirer._

The note had made Harry feel an odd feeling of curiosity mixed with happiness, a feeling he doesn’t think anyone’s ever felt before. It's just, who in this school would have a crush on Harry? Why not Liam, or Louis, or one of the other football players? Why not Niall, with his cheerful attitude and sunny smile? Why not Zayn, who could easily have been painted as the Mona Lisa if he had lived back then? Why _Harry_? It makes Harry a confused but flattered in a way he's never been before.

Sadly, when Harry walks out of the school that afternoon it’s still raining. It almost gets rid of Harry’s lovely mood, dulls it down to an indifferent mood instead. Stupid rain. Stupid process of condensation and precipitation. Stupid nature.

Knowing he won’t be any better off if he waits, Harry sets off into the pouring rain and begins the walk home. It’s cold and wet and miserable and Harry finds himself wishing more than ever that he had a car. It's only just above freezing, the rain making Harry cold to the core. _  
_

When Harry’s about halfway home and can feel his jumper sticking to his skin, molding to the outline of his long torso and slight abs, he hears a call through the howling wind. Turning, he’s almost blinded by the too-bright car lights contrasting with the dark clouds overhead.

“Need a ride?” asks a voice, a voice that Harry can’t place because of the splattering of rain and the loud gusts of wind whipping past his frozen ears.

But then the car’s pulling up next to him and he’s met with the figure of Louis Tomlinson, a person he’s never loved more than this moment.

“Oh my god, yes,” he gasps, shivering with the cold as he dashes around Louis’ car and opens the door.

  
Cringing, Harry sits on one of the seats with a squelch. He really doesn’t want to ruin the leather of Louis’ nice car, but he would never pass up an opportunity to spend time with the beautiful boy. Plus, he was just about to become a human popsicle. That's quite the factor as well.

“Jesus, you’re going to get hypothermia out there,” Louis teases, eyeing where Harry is all curled up and shivering in the passenger seat. All he can really do is nod, teeth chattering slightly as he draws a much-needed breath.

“Where do I go to get to yours?” Louis asks.

“Um, you go down this street and then take a right -” Harry starts, but he’s interrupted by Louis.

“I bet mine’s closer,” Louis says. “Plus, I bet the girls would love to see you. They’ve been bugging me about it ever since you came over that one time. Haven’t shut up about you.”

Harry smiles. Those girls are so lovely. And Harry knows for a fact that his house is closer than Louis’, but hey, it won’t hurt to agree with the boy.

“Sounds good.”

***

When Harry and Louis arrive at the Tomlinson household, everything is quiet.

“Oh yeah, the girls don’t get home for another half hour or so,” Louis mumbles offhandedly. Harry shivers and nods, because that means some time alone with Louis and that’s not something Harry will ever complain about.

Not sure where to go, Harry just stands on the rug in front of Louis’ door. He doesn’t want to get the floors or chairs all wet, but he doesn’t have a change of clothes. It’s a little bit frustrating.

“Oh, shoot, you probably don’t have any clean clothes, do you?” Louis asks, as if he could read Harry’s mind. Harry nods, hoping that Louis says what Harry wants him to say.

“Well, I guess I might have some that you can borrow.”

Boom. Hook, line, and sinker.

“Yes, please,” Harry shivers, tries to push down the muscles in his face that are trying to make him smile.

Louis disappears up some stairs and comes back a couple minutes later with a pile of clothes, handing them to Harry. “Bathroom’s over there.”

Harry follows where Louis points and walks into a cute little nautical-themed bathroom. There’s a strip of tiles lining the walls with little pictures of anchors, ropes, ships, compasses, and other cute, sea-themed things on them. The walls themselves are a nice light blue, with a white porcelain countertop and bath.

Harry strips off his cold, wet shirt and somehow manages to peel his ridiculously tight jeans off. Thankfully the water hasn’t soaked through to his pants too much, so he just uses a towel to dry his legs and torso off.

He slips on the shirt Louis gave him, a warm knit sweater that’s a gentle shade of green. Louis also gave him a pair of soft joggers, ones that don’t quite reach Harry's ankles. Harry giggles at the fact that they probably fit Louis - maybe they’re even a little big on him. Louis is just so tiny and adorable, like a little hedgehog that Harry wants to snog against a wall. Okay, that was a really bad simile. Harry should stop trying.

Finally Harry shakes out his hair and attempts to comb through it with his long fingers, but the usually soft strands are all rain-sticky and gross. So Harry shrugs and just goes with the wet bunny look. Hopefully Louis won’t be too repelled.

 

Harry takes his own wet, freezing clothes and hangs them up on the bar that hods the shower curtain, giving them a chance to dry out before he goes home.

Glancing over the line of the tiles lining the wall, Harry's eye catches on one in particular. It's an anchor with a rope through it. He reaches his fingers out and traces the outline of it, for some reason feeling rather drawn to and entranced by the little picture. Shaking it off, Harry walks out of the bathroom.

Not knowing where exactly he’s going, Harry wanders down the hallway he came from, a soft red color lining the walls. It’s somewhat calming to Harry, and it makes his cold skin feel a little warmer.

Harry wanders back into the living room and looks around properly for the first time, taking in the cozy furniture and the walls that are same soft red as in the hallways. On one wall Harry spots a faded old marker drawing, probably something that one of the kids did when they were younger.

“Oh,” Harry hears from somewhere off to the side. He looks over and sees Louis poking his head in from the kitchen, smiling at Harry. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry answers. He lets the ends of the jumper sleeves fall over his hands, making little paws with the soft cotton. He smiles back at Louis goofily, showing all his teeth. He seems to be unable to not smile around Louis, it’s like talking in a normal voice to a dog. It just doesn’t happen.

“Want something?” Louis asks, gesturing to the kitchen behind him. “Food? Water?”

“No, thanks,” Harry responds. He just stands there dorkily in the middle of the living room for a moment before remembering what Louis had told him a while ago. “What do you want for your birthday?”

  
  
“What?” Louis asks, eyebrows furrowing before his forehead smoothes out. “Oh, um, I don’t know.”  
  


He’s blushing, Harry notices, and he can tell that Louis does in fact know, but he doesn’t want to tell Harry.

  
“Come on, Louis,” Harry begs, “please tell me.”

“Maybe I will, later,” Louis answers, smiling that mischievous smile that Harry has come to love.

Suddenly there’s a commotion outside and then someone’s knocking on the door. Harry turns, bewildered, to Louis, who’s smiling knowingly.

“I’ve got that,” Louis tells Harry. He brushes past Harry with a poke to the curly-haired boy’s little belly, making Harry giggle a bit. Louis is pretty much an expert at getting Harry all flustered and giggly, and he doesn't even know it. Harry would like to keep it that way.

There’s the sound of Louis walking down the hallway to the door and then there’s a cool breeze being blown in, making Harry shiver. Harry hears some hushed whispers and then it’s all silent, nothing but the sound of a door closing to be heard.

“Louis?” Harry calls, the sound of his voice loud and echoing in the empty house. His mind falls on the fact that Louis might’ve left, and his heart sinks down to his shoes. Like, he can literally feel it drop. It’s kind of scary.

“Lou?” Harry rasps out again, quieter this time. One foot in front of the other, he slowly walks toward the hallway where Louis disappeared. His legs are a little shaky as he steps, the soft inner fabric of Louis’ joggers rubbing against his legs in a way that could have been comforting, but now it’s just annoying.

Harry turns the corner into the hallway-

“ROAR!” comes the yell of multiple voices. Harry jumps about four feet in the air, stumbling backward and hitting his back on the wall behind him. Heart racing, Harry places a hand on his chest.

Giggles erupt from every child in the Tomlinson family, and Daisy is laughing so hard that she has to cling to Louis’ leg. Harry’s lips slowly lift, forming a smile when he realizes that everything is okay.

“You little sh-” Harry starts to say to Louis, but stops halfway because he doesn’t want to swear around little girls. Louis is smiling at Harry and giggling a little, sharp canines glinting white as he grins. _I’m so fucking in love_ , Harry thinks, smiling back even though he’s fucked.

“Hi, Harry!” Phoebe greets, waving at him and grinning now that she’s regained her composure. Harry waves back, heart melting at how cute the little girl is.

“Harry! Come play with us!” Fizzy orders, grabbing one of Harry’s large hands and leading him into the living room. Harry shoots Louis an overwhelmed smile and allows Fizzy to drag him down the hallway. He's really not used to all these little girls, only ever having lived with a calm older sister and a mum most of his life.

The girls all sit Harry down and stand around him, staring like he’s supposed to do some sort of trick or something. Harry honestly has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing.

“Um. Hi,” he chooses, giving them a little wave. The girls all giggle.

“I’m going to go get mummy’s make-up!” Lottie announces. She scampers off down the hall, little feet making soft pitter-patter noises as she dashes away. Harry watches as Louis walks slowly into the room and leans against the wall, just watching. Harry gives him a little half-smile.

And then Lottie is back, running into the room with a rather large, decorative box. She opens it up and unfolds the inside, meaning it’s one of those confusing organizer boxes that Harry can never figure out. Lottie, however, seems to understand it fine and slowly empties the insides of it.

“Harry, want me to give you a makeover?” Daisy asks. She smiles brightly at Harry holding up a tube of... something. Harry has never really understood makeup.

“Um…” Harry glances over at Louis, who’s smirking amusedly. “Sure?”

All four girls giggle and clap their hands, and then Harry’s overwhelmed by what feels like thousands of little hands and badly painted nails messing with his face and hair. Harry’s got Phoebe on his left, rubbing his cheeks with some kind of powdery red shit, and Daisy in front of him, making him keep his eyes open so she can put mascara - Or is that eyeliner? Eyeshadow? - whatever it is, she’s putting something on Harry’s eyelashes. And then there’s Fizzy somewhere to his right with lipstick, or lip gloss, something sparkly and wet making Harry’s lips all sticky and gross feeling.

Then there’s Lottie behind Harry, carefully removing Harry’s flower crown before beginning to tug at his hair, seeming to be braiding it (from what Harry can tell, but he really doesn’t know how to braid anything).

About ten - excruciatingly painful - minutes later, the girls back off of Harry and smile at their work. Harry hears a snort and then Louis bursts out laughing, which really isn’t helping with Harry’s current self esteem. He’s a little nervous, his hands twitching in his lap as he tries to avoid biting at his newly glossed lips.

“Are you ready?” Fizzy asks sweetly, holding a mirror so that Harry can’t quite see into it yet.

“I think?” Harry responds. Because no, he’s not ready, but he knows he’s going to have to say yes anyway.

Fizzy holds up the mirror and Harry watches as his own violently blue-shadowed eyes widen, his wet-looking mouth forming a small ‘o’ shape as he looks at his new appearance.

The makeover isn’t actually too bad, considering it was done by 6 year olds. Violently blue eyeshadow is blanketing Harry’s eyelids and he catches just a glimpse of it whenever he blinks. Speaking of blinking, Harry’s eyelashes have seemed to elongate, now sweeping down and brushing his little cheekbones whenever he flutters his eyes closed. His cheeks have a bit of a red tint, the crimson coloring of it a little too obvious to be considered ‘blush’. It’s more like ‘I just peed my pants in front of the entire school’.

And then there’s the hair. Oh, god, the hair. Lottie seems to have braided trails of hair down each side of Harry’s head, the two ends of the braids tucked behind Harry’s ears lamely. The rest of Harry’s hair has been pulled up into a bun, actually done up pretty well, even though the complete style looks ridiculous.

Harry bursts out laughing at his reflection in the mirror, at the ridiculousness of it all. He makes the mistake of allowing his tongue to poke out and lick at his lips, effectively fucking up and accidentally swallowing the lip gloss that has evidently been applied liberally to his lips.

“I love it, thank you girls,” Harry manages through his spout of giggles. The girls all say their ‘thank-you’s and ‘you’re welcome’s, smiling broadly. Casting his eyes around the room Harry catches sight of Louis and grins dorkily, something warm and tingly running through his veins at the fond expression on Louis’ beautiful face. It’s kind of unbelievable, sitting here in Louis’ living room, looking like a dork just to appease these little girls. And Louis is right over there, smiling fondly and laughing at Harry. Honestly, Harry would never have it any other way.

“You look like an idiot,” Louis whispers into Harry’s ear, coming over and sitting down next to him. Harry feels a funny little warm sensation when Louis’ knee presses up against his own, both boys sitting cross-legged side by side.

“I don’t know, I for one think I look kind of hot,” Harry jokes. He does a modelling pose and attempts to make a sexy face, but it probably just makes him look even stupider when Louis snorts next to him. Whatever.

“You’re a dork,” Louis laughs, reaching up and poking the tip of Harry’s nose. Harry smiles and blushes. If all this makeup caked onto his face is good for anything, it’s hiding Harry’s blush.

“Guys! Louis! Come here!” comes a sudden yelp from the kitchen. Louis’ eyes widen significantly, and he immediately jumps up from his spot and dashes off into the kitchen, the three little girls following in his footsteps. Harry’s a little bit irked that one of the girls interrupted his cute time with Louis, but then he realizes that whoever yelled that - after all, Harry hasn’t memorized their voices yet - could be hurt. He jumps up and follows the path Louis took to the kitchen.

When Harry enters, slightly distressed, he’s met with one of the most beautiful sights he’s ever seen.

The Tomlinson children (plus Louis, since he can’t really be considered a child anymore) are all cuddled together, the little girls clinging to Louis like he’s their favorite person in the world. Harry wouldn't be surprised if he is. Their backs are all facing Harry and they’re all quiet, so much so that Harry doesn’t even want to breathe in fear that he’ll disrupt the beautiful silence. They’re all staring out the window fixedly, because, for the first time this year, it’s snowing.

Plump, fluffy snowflakes are drifting past the window lazily, all different but looking so much alike at the same time. The white glow of them sets the whole outdoors into vibrant hues, the reds and oranges of the leaves popping out more than ever before.

“The rain must’ve frozen because it’s so cold,” Harry whispers, sidling up next to Fizzy but staying a bit of a distance away. After all, seeing the Tomlinson's all cuddled together like this, Daisy and Phoebe clinging to Louis’ legs, Fizzy’s arm wrapped around Louis’ elbow and Lottie with her arm around Louis’ waist, makes Harry feel a bit out of place.

“Yeah,” Daisy whispers, reaching her tiny little hand out and touching the window delicately. It’s almost like she’s trying to reach out and touch the snowflakes, feel how they melt in her warm hands and how they taste on her tongue. Harry might die because these girls are so small and cute and innocent and it makes Harry want to cry a little bit.

Lottie reaches a hand out and grips at the hem of Harry’s - no, Louis’ sweater, looking at him with her big innocent eyes and drawing him in closer. It’s a small gesture, just a little tug to bring Harry into their little family circle, but it makes Harry a tiny bit teary-eyed. It’s like Lottie is silently letting Harry know that _hey, you belong here too_ , and it makes Harry feel, well, special. No matter how inspirational-lecture that might sound.

Harry glances over at Louis, who’s looking out the window with excited eyes. In the bright light of the falling snowflakes everything about the smaller boy is defined, more vibrant than ever before. Harry traces his eyes down the gentle curve of Louis’ jaw, the way shadows pool underneath his defined cheekbones. As he blinks, Louis' long eyelashes sweep down over his cheeks and then his eyes re-open to reveal sparkling blue irises, the most beautiful color Harry’s ever seen before. In fact, they look a little more green in the vivid light, like Harry’s own eyes but more sparkly and brilliant.

And then Louis is turning to look at Harry, his pretty pink lips forming at tiny smile as he catches Harry staring at him. But Harry can’t seem to draw his eyes away, because the light from outside is glinting off of the thin bit of scruff dotting Louis’ jawline and making him just that much more beautiful. Harry feels entranced, captivated, and he can't look away no matter how hard he tries.

_I’m so in love with you_ , Harry thinks through the haze in his spellbound mind.

  
If only he had the guts to say it out loud.


	10. Chapter 10

Friday night and Louis' last football game arrives, and Harry is trying to find the warmest clothes possible. It's been snowing on and off all week but none of it has stuck to the ground, thankfully. Nevertheless, it's cold as fuck and Harry is desperately searching for clothes that will keep him from freezing.

Finally he decides on wearing two pairs of jeans (it'll be uncomfortable, but at least he'll be warm), a soft long-sleeved shirt, and a warm jacket that he really only wears during the cold winter months.

As Harry's tucking extra strands of hair into a beanie, he spots something in his peripheral vision. Glancing over, his eyes catch on something green.

Harry gasps when he realizes that it’s Louis’ sweater from a few days ago.

Harry lifts it up, the softness of it brushing against his hands as he does so. He knows he shouldn’t still have the sweater, he just keeps forgetting (ha, forgetting. He just doesn’t want to give it back) to give it to Louis. It’s so warm and soft, and it makes Harry smile at the memories of spending time with adorable Louis and his adorable sisters.

Slowly, Harry slides off his jacket and hesitates for only a second before pulling Louis’ sweater on over his head, effectively screwing up Harry’s beanie. Whatever, Harry doesn’t care. However hard it is, he slides the jacket back on and tucks his hair back under the beanie.

_Alright_ , he thinks, _now  I’m ready._

***

The stadium is packed, partly because it’s the last game and everybody wanted to go and partly because it’s really fucking cold and everyone is huddled close together to conserve heat. Harry’s not sure what to do when he first gets there, so he just stands at the bottom of the bleachers, toying with the hem of his - no, sorry, Louis’ jumper.

Then there’s a call of “Harry!” and he’s getting mobbed by a bunch of girls, all dressed in their cheerleading outfits (which are completely inappropriate for the current weather). Harry allows them to lead him down, onto the field, and then under this weird awning-type thing that Harry guesses they all rest under.

Together, everyone chats amiably and watches as the football players all warm up, commenting on who looks the hottest and who should really get a haircut. The girls tell Harry about their boyfriends, and who they currently fancy, and who they think are disgusting. Harry listens along and nods politely, feeling quite welcomed to their little family. He doesn’t tell them about his feelings for Louis, though, because he doesn’t want too many people to know. Call him a loser, he's just shy about his strong feelings.

The one thing Harry is surprised to find is that most of the cheerleaders aren’t vain, snobby, rude, or conceited. Of course, there are a few - like a girl named Kate, who Harry immediately dislikes - who fit into all four of those categories, but otherwise most of the girls are really sweet. They offer Harry water and snacks (only healthy ones, of course, because they don’t want to barf whilst cheering) and listen to him talk about who he thinks is fit.

“Oh my god,” one of the girls, who’s name is Alex, exclaims suddenly. “We should play the shipping game.”

The cheerleaders all squeal and giggle. Harry just furrows his eyebrows.

“What? Shipping? Like, the mail?” Harry asks, looking around for help. The girls all laugh, looking at each other like Harry just said the funniest thing imaginable.

“No, love,” a girl named Zoe says gently. “Shipping… it’s like, when you ship people.”

“What?” Harry asks slightly incredulously. Now he’s more confused than ever. Why would you want to ship people? What? The girls all laugh again, and then Zoe continues:

“Ship is short for relationship. So, when you ship people, it means you think they’d be cute in a relationship together.”

“Oh,” Harry mumbles. Now he feels stupid. “Then what’s the shipping game?”

“It’s where we all go around and say who we ship people with,” a girl named Sophie explains. “Here, I’ll start. Alex, I ship you with… Max Tompkins.”

Everyone wolf-whistles and claps, Alex blushing. Harry thinks those two would make a rather cute couple. Alex, with her soft brown hair, gentle green eyes and short, small frame, and then Max with his quiffed-up almost-black hair and bright blue eyes, taller than Alex with a wider frame. These girls are rather good with shipping, whatever it is.

It goes on like this, each girl just saying whoever they ship someone with. Harry gets shipped with Niall (ha, no), Nick Grimshaw (still not ideal), and a kid named Finn who Harry used to have a crush on back in year seven. When the football game is just about to start, everyone is yelling out last-minute ships.

“I ship Sophie with Olly!” Harry yells. After all, he knows Sophie likes him and genuinely thinks they would make a rather cute couple. Sophie blushes and smiles at Harry.

“Well, I ship Harry with…” A girl named Ashley begins, pausing to think. Suddenly, her eyes widen and she smiles wide. “I ship Harry with Louis Tomlinson!”

Harry gasps at her, trying to act as if he’s not hugely affected by what she just said. But really, he feels warm and squishy inside, like someone turned his insides into marshmallows. Other girls are giggling and agreeing, saying that Harry and Louis would make a cute couple. Harry’s facial muscles are forcing him to smile no matter how hard he tries to hold it back. People _actually_ think Harry and Louis would make a cute couple. Harry silently agrees with them.

***

The game goes amazingly.

Harry stands with the girls on the side of the field, not quite doing their cheer routines but dancing around like a maniac, cheering for the home team and yelling that they can do it. Louis scores quite a few goals and Harry feels so proud of him, can't stop smiling the whole game.

Speaking of smiling, whenever he's not playing, Louis will shoot Harry a glance and smile. Harry thinks it's super cute and waves back every time, blush hidden by the fact that his cheeks are already reddened from the cold.

Louis' team wins once again, making Harry feel so proud it's unbelievable. The cheerleaders, coaches, and subs are all mobbing the field, hugging and congratulating the team. Harry ambles out after them, just standing off to the side as he watches the football players hug their friends and girlfriends.

"Hey, Harry," says a familiar voice to Harry's right.

"Zayn! Why are you here?" Harry asks. He gives Zayn a slap on the back and Zayn stumbles a bit, which is when Harry notices the larger, muscular figure with his arm around Zayn's shoulders.

"Liam made me come, because he always comes to these so he can cheer for Louis," Zayn explains, poking Liam's stomach and making the boy giggle. Harry smiles softly, thinks the two boys make a rather cute couple. _I wonder when they'll come out_ , Harry thinks.

And suddenly he's being tackled by a small sweaty boy, who's clinging to Harry with his legs and arms wrapped around him like a koala. Harry laughs and wraps his arms around the warm boy, nuzzling his face into Louis' wet hair. In fact, Harry felt freezing cold just a second ago, but now, with a beautiful boy in his arms, he feels warm to the core.

"Congratulations, Louis," Harry giggles, gently setting Louis down on the cold ground. Louis pokes Harry's cheek with his warm finger.

"Thanks for cheering me on," he responds. "Need a ride home?"

Harry's insides feel warm once again, and despite the freezing temperatures, he feels the sudden need to shed his remaining layers of clothing.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Louis, come on! We're taking some team photos!" calls one of Louis' team mates, beckoning Louis over by swinging his arm in a wide arc toward himself.

"Coming!" Louis yells back. He pats Harry's cheek briefly and scampers off to the team.

The boys are all throwing their varsity jackets on over their team uniforms, squishing together so that they can all fit into the frame. Everybody smiles for the first one and does a silly face for the second one, but Harry's really only watching Louis.

"Alright, let's get one with the cheerleaders in it too!" one of the team mates suggests, gesturing for the girls to come join them.

Harry watches as everybody squishes super close, Liam holding the camera and telling them who's in the shot and who isn't.

"Wait, Harry!" calls Alex, the cheerleader with the soft brown hair. She beckons Harry over. "Come get in here!"

Harry shakes his head, blushing. "I don't have a uniform like you guys. It'll be weird."

The cheerleaders all make disappointed faces for a few seconds, looking genuinely displeased by this news. Harry feels happy at that, because it means that maybe not everyone at this stupid school dislikes him.

"Oh!" Louis suddenly exclaims, butting a friend out of the way with his shoulder and pushing him to the side. "Harry, come here! You can wear my jacket."

Louis is shedding his blue varsity jacket, holding it out for Harry with one hand and pushing his sweat-soaked hair back with the other. Heartbeat going a bit uneven, Harry smiles big and walks over to the rest of the people, taking the jacket from Louis' outstretched hand.

Thankfully, Harry had shed his two outermost tops, only wearing a long-sleeved white shirt now. He slips on Louis’ jacket slowly, not really believing that this is actually happening.

It's warm, not very comfortable but it's Louis'. It smells like Louis' sweet-scented cologne and a bit like sweat, but Harry doesn't mind at all because for god's sake, it's Louis Tomlinson's varsity jacket. A warmth spreads across Harry's face and inside when he realizes that the word 'Tomlinson' is stitched across his back right now.

 

Harry Tomlinson.

"Alright guys, squish together," Liam orders. "Act like you actually like each other."

And then Louis is pressing in close on Harry’s left side, his arm sliding gently around Harry’s waist as he does so. Harry fights to keep his eyes on the camera, smiling hugely into it as the flash goes off and Liam snaps the picture. Momentarily blinded, Harry blinks his eyes to try and get rid of the light spots that have been seared into his retinas.

“Okay, now make a face like…” Liam starts, then pauses, thinking.

“Like you’re having an orgasm!” somebody yells out. Everyone laughs but they agree to do it anyway, because seriously, why not? Harry scrunches his face up and opens his mouth, closing his eyes and trying to look like he’s having an orgasm. The fact that he can’t see Louis’ face right now is both a blessing and a curse, because Harry really wants to see Louis’ orgasm face but he also doesn’t want to get a boner at a time like this.

Liam snaps the picture and everybody laughs, getting out of position for the picture and saying their congratulations and goodbyes to everyone else. Harry bids his goodbyes to the cheerleaders and Louis does the same to his teammates before Louis grabs Harry around the wrist - the points of contact feel like they’re on fire - and walks toward the locker room.

“Go wait by my car, I’ll be quick,” Louis assures, patting Harry’s back before disappearing into the locker room. Harry watches as that perfect, tiny body rounds the corner into the locker room, taking in the sight of that round, perky little bum in those tight football shorts. It’s quite a nice view.

A few long minutes of Harry standing by Louis’ car later and Louis is jogging out into the parking lot. He spots Harry and grins, waving at the curly-haired boy and rushing over.

“Sorry, I was just taking a shower,” Louis apologizes, brushing his damp hair out of his face and opening the car door. Harry climbs in on the passenger side, thinking of anything but Louis, in the shower, naked. That’s kind of - no, that's _really_ hot.

“God job on winning the game,” Harry congratulates, even though he already said it. He just doesn’t want it to be quiet, because then he’ll start thinking about Louis in the shower, which is a thought he’ll probably be saving for later when he’s all alone in his own shower.

“Thank you, even though you already said that,” Louis teases. He navigates out of the parking lot and off down the street, car going rather slowly because of the traffic.

“Can you believe we only have two weeks of school left before break?” Harry asks Louis, changing the subject. He rests his head against the headrest, spreading his thighs into a v-shape to try and get more comfortable. Having long legs can be annoying sometimes.

“I - uh, yeah, it’s weird, yeah,” Louis stutters after a pause. Harry looks over at him with confused expression.

“You okay?” Harry asks, tilting his head to the side. Louis is just staring ahead, way more focused on the road than he should be. A short nod of Louis’ head is all Harry gets as a response, a blush painting Louis’ cheekbones a light pink.

They don’t talk for a while, and Harry starts to feel a little sleepy. The slow rumble of the car’s engine and the soft headlights outside are making him rather drowsy, his eyelids drooping a bit. He allows himself to close his eyes for a bit, prying them open with a significant amount of effort after a second or two.

Louis is a warm presence to Harry’s right, the sweet smell of shampoo and cologne making Harry even more sleepy than before. The long night of screaming and dancing around like an idiot is finally catching up to him, hitting Harry with wave after wave of drowsiness. He yawns and reaches a hand up to rub at his eye tiredly.

“You look sleepy,” Louis notes, looking over at Harry and smiling softly. Harry smiles back tiredly and yawns again.

“Busy night,” he answers stupidly. He knows he sounds like an idiot but he’s too sleepy to care.

And then they’re arriving at Harry’s house, the headlights from Louis’ car illuminating the faded bricks on the front of the building. Harry looks over at Louis, who’s already looking back at him.

“Um, thanks for the ride,” he mumbles, not quite sure what he’s supposed to say now.

“You, uh, still have this,” Louis says, tugging at the sleeve of his own jacket that Harry is still wearing. Harry blushes and smiles sheepishly, having completely forgotten that he was wearing it.

“Sorry,” Harry responds, shrugging it off and handing it back to Louis. He reaches into the back seat and grabs his other two jackets.

But, wait. They’re not both his jackets, because one of them is Louis’ green sweater that Harry had decided to wear today.

“Oh yeah, I still have this,” Harry comments, holding it out to give it back to the Love of His Life. Louis just looks at the sweater with wide eyes before looking at Harry.

“You wore it?” he whispers, face and tone expressionless. Harry doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t know what the right answer is. Should he tell the truth? Should he say he just brought it so he could give it back to Louis?

Well, his mum always did tell him that honesty is the best policy.

“Um, yeah,” he admits. Sheepishly, he adds, “Sorry. I should’ve given it back earlier.”

Louis shakes his head, looking a little disbelieving. Harry can’t imagine why, though. “No, no. It’s… fine. Thanks.”

Harry still feels a bit like a lost puppy, not sure if he did something wrong or not, but he hands over the sweater anyway and nods at Louis by way of a goodbye. Hopping out of the car, he waves quickly to Louis and then fast-walks up the driveway and into his home.

Well, that was embarrassing.

***

The next week and a half pass in a cold haze of snow that actually sticks to the ground, students getting way too much homework, and quickly dropping temperatures. Harry watches as Zayn and Liam gradually spend more and more time together, Liam now a permanent member of their little group at lunch. Louis joins them some days, other days sitting with his friends over at the jock table.

Zayn and Liam don’t come out of the closet within the next week and a half, but Harry catches them sneaking kisses in the boy’s bathroom or in between classes in deserted hallways. It makes him smile, the fact that Zayn and Liam’s relationship stays strong despite the secretiveness.

Wednesday, December 17 arrives, and with only 3 days left of school until break the whole school is in rather high spirits. There’s an air of excitement, a thrumming energy of people who are eager for the holidays to arrive. Harry’s rather nervous because he still doesn’t know what to get Louis for his birthday (or Christmas, for that matter), and every time he asks Louis will just blush and say ‘Nothing’.

“Louis!” Harry calls out, after scouting the hallway for the small boy.

Louis is standing, or rather, kneeling by his locker, his knee jammed inside of it and a book sitting on the flat surface of his thigh. The book isn’t open - rather, Louis is using it as a flat place to write something, something that Harry can’t see due to his distance from the feather-haired boy.

Blue eyes glance up from where Louis is scribbling something down somewhat hastily on that piece of paper. Eyebrows raising, Louis stuffs his book, pencil, and paper in the locker before slamming it quickly shut and smiling forcedly at Harry.

“What were you writing?” Harry asks, walking up to Louis and leaning against the locker next to his.

“I don’t know. Just, some stuff,” Louis responds, not quite meeting Harry’s eyes. Well, that’s peculiar. Why should it matter that much?

“Okaaay,” Harry drawls, stretching out the word with a confused tone. Louis just smiles that decidedly fake smile again. His perfect little cheekbones are tinged a light pink, a soft color that makes Harry want to repaint his walls that exact shade. It sounds really creepy when you say it that way. Probably because it is.

“Anyway!” Harry claps his hands in a let’s-get-down-to-business gesture. “What do you want for your birthday?”

Louis stares at Harry with an I’m-so-done expression, cheeks regaining their pink tint as he shakes his head.

“Harry,” he states. “You’ve asked me this question every single day since I told you my birthday is on the twenty fourth.”

“And I wouldn’t have to keep asking if you would just tell me!” Harry complains. He throws his arms up in a defeated gesture. “Just tell me what you want! I can tell you want _something_.”

Louis looks Harry straight in the eyes. A short pause hangs between them, and then, “If I told you what I want I would be super embarrassed and then you would never talk to me again.”

Harry giggles. Ha. Like there’s anything that could make Harry dislike Louis. “Fine. Then, what should I get you that won’t make you all, ‘wow, thanks, but I’d rather die than receive something as shitty as this’.”

Louis seems to ponder it for a second, then says, “You literally don’t have to get me anything.”

“Louis, no-” Harry begins, rolling his eyes, but he’s interrupted.

“But,” Louis continues, pointing at Harry as if silently telling him to shut up, “You have to come over for my birthday. Liam’s going to his nan’s and I don’t want to be alone.”

Okay. That’s probably more of a present for Harry than it is for Louis. If only the boy knew. Harry really doesn’t know what to say, just stares down at the pretty boy in front of him for a moment as he regains the ability to speak.

“I, um, okay,” he stutters. “Why me?”

The last part slips out and Harry blushes, not meaning to have said that.

“Because I like you,” Louis answers simply, patting Harry’s broad chest. Harry’s heart beats fast below Louis’ hand, and he sends a silent prayer hoping Louis doesn’t feel it. Louis just said he likes Harry. Not _t_ _hat_   way, of course, but still. He actually enjoys Harry’s company. Which, Harry kind of already knew that, but hearing it out of Louis' own mouth makes him feel all giggly and happy.

Of course, Harry is in love with Louis, but Louis being able to tolerate Harry is good enough. For now, at least.

***

Niall, Harry, Liam, Louis, and Zayn are all sitting together at lunch that same day, happily joking and laughing like they’ve been friends forever.

Liam is talking about how his dad’s expectations of him are rather high, and that it makes him a little stressed sometimes. Sympathy radiates around the table, everyone silently feeling sorry for Liam.

“Don’t worry, Li,” Zayn coos, stroking his hand along Liam’s scruff. “You’re a better guy than you like to admit. You’re, like, totally amazing.”

Niall makes fake gagging gestures while Harry and Louis catch each others eye, grinning at the cuteness of Zayn and Liam’s relationship. Harry thinks they’re so cute together. Wait… does that mean he ships them? Whatever, he’ll never understand this shipping thing. Or girls in general.

“Thanks, Zayn,” Liam says back, smiling at his secret boyfriend. Harry can’t help but smile softly as well, tries to hide it by taking a bit of his food.

And then Harry gasps, almost choking on his mouthful as Liam leans over and kisses Zayn. Right there, in front of the entire cafeteria. Just leans over and presses his lips to Zayn’s for a few seconds, no hesitation or anything.

Harry hears an “oh my god” from a few tables over as Liam pulls back, eyes wide but glinting with happiness and pride at what he just did. The whole cafeteria falls silent for a few seconds, everybody just staring at Zayn and Liam disbelievingly.

Liam is smiling softly and looking around, gauging everyone’s expressions. Zayn, however, seems frozen in place, just staring at Liam as if he still can’t believe what just happened.

Because, this is it. Zayn and Liam are out, and there’s nothing they can do about it now.

“Wait, what?” someone from the jock table suddenly yells, far too loud in the silent, echoing cafeteria. “Liam, did you just kiss him?”

Zayn looks with terrified eyes at Liam, who’s just standing up confidently.

“I did, in fact,” Liam announces. His eyes search the cafeteria challengingly as he absentmindedly strokes a hand through Zayn's soft hair. “Is that a problem?”

Everyone is silent, looking around to see who’ll speak up. The air is full of uncertainty, nobody wanting to say anything but low whispers to their friends in fear of getting hurt by Liam’s bulging muscles. The thing is, anyone who knows Liam would know that he’d never hurt anyone. Or anything, for that matter.  
  
But, for the first time since they learned to talk, not a single person in the junior class has a single thing to say.

“That’s what I thought,” Liam mutters, sitting back down and tucking a smiling Zayn into his side.

Everything is still silent, the uncertainty and tension thick as smoke in the stale air of the lunch room. Harry’s a little bit scared, though he doesn’t know why.

His scared-ness is cut like a string when, pinging out through the still silence of the cafeteria, someone begins to clap.

Harry jumps and looks to his left, where Louis is standing up and clapping his hands together. He’s grinning at Liam and Zayn, clapping his hands with a proud air surrounding his small frame.

And then Niall is joining in, and so is Harry. Pretty soon the tables around them begin to clap as well, a few girls whooping out and whistling.

Liam and Zayn seem to glow with happiness as the whole cafeteria erupts with deafening applause, even the annoying popular boys joining in somewhat reluctantly. Harry is smiling so big he might crack his face in half, his happiness making him feel light and tingly all over.

And that's it, Liam and Zayn are out.

And everything went perfectly fine.

***

Friday rolls around and the air is positively thrumming with excitement for the holidays, and Harry feels it as much as everyone else does. He’s ready to finally sleep in, to be able to wake up to snow drifting slowly by his window and just lay there, no deadlines for when he has to get up or anything to be worried about.

Not to mention that he’s excited and nervous for Louis’ birthday. Keeping to what he told Louis, he doesn’t get Louis anything (though it feels wrong, he really does want to give Louis something) and instead promises to show up at Louis’ doorstep sometime on Christmas Eve. His emotion keeps moving back and forth from excited to nervous to happy to uneasy about it, because he doesn’t quite know what spending the day before a huge holiday with Louis might entail. Whatever, he decides to just act casual about the whole thing.

After all, Louis can never know that Harry loves him.

Because Louis doesn’t love Harry back. And he never will.

The excitement from Liam and Zayn’s coming-out-of-the-closet has massively calmed down over the past few days. Now, almost nobody bats an eye when they see Liam and Zayn walking down the hallway holding hands or sharing a quick kiss before parting ways. It’s become normal, and Harry kind of loves it.

At first, Liam’s friends were skeptical as fuck about the whole thing. They cast Liam and Zayn odd glances when passing them in hallways, and some of them still do, but most have come to accept it. After all, Liam is still Liam. And Louis would probably slice their dicks off if they said a single mean word to the poor boy.

Harry almost freezes his poor little ass off walking to school that morning, having to shiver off the remaining chills when he arrives inside. His jeans, frozen and stiff, cling uncomfortably to his legs as he navigates down the hallways on his numb, frozen legs.

“Harry!” yells someone when Harry’s at his locker, gathering his books for the day. He immediately recognizes Niall’s thick Irish accent, and isn’t surprised when the blonde boy bounds up to him with a big, awfully-wrapped present in hand.

“Oh, thanks, Niall,” Harry smiles at the boy before accepting the gift and reaching into his locker, pulling out the last-minute present he bought for his best mate.

Niall immediately grabs the gift bag and his eyes widen like, well, a child on Christmas. He throws the red tissue paper onto the floor and digs through the massive amount of candy Harry got him. The boy smiles like the sun, lighting up his face as he unwraps a chocolate bar and stuffs half of it into his grinning mouth.

“Thanks, Harry,” he mumbles around his mouthful. He attempts a smile around his food and it’s rather unpleasant, but Harry can’t help but laugh and smile back at him. “Well? Unwrap my gift, will you?”

Harry groans. Niall’s signature thing is that he always buys Harry really shit Christmas presents that they get to laugh about. Well, more so, Niall laughs and Harry groans and blushes. For example, last year Niall bought Harry a sparkly buttplug. So, yeah. Niall’s gifts can be considered funny, but not ideal.

Uneasy as ever, Harry tears open the hastily-done wrapping paper on the box. It’s just a cardboard box, with some fancy label on it meaning Niall bought whatever this is online.

“Niall, what did you…” Harry looks uneasily at the very female, loopy handwriting that makes up the logo on the tape wrapped around the box. He can’t decipher what it says, no matter how hard he tries. You could say he’s a little bit scared.

“Just open it for Christ’s sake!” Niall complains, a mischievous grin biting at his chocolate-stained lips.

Harry carefully unfolds the flaps on the box. Seeing what's inside, he gasps, covering his face with one hand and blushing. With his free hand he slams the box shut, face feeling warm with embarrassment.

Because, Jesus Christ, Niall bought Harry a bunch of lacy, girly panties.

“I hate you,” Harry mutters. He means it, too, half because he’s embarrassed and half because, well.

He thinks he just might wear them.

***

Lunch is fun, Harry, Liam, Niall and Zayn all exchanging presents like a happy little family. Louis spends the day with his group of friends, which is fine with Harry, but there’s a nagging disappointment somewhere deep in his belly that wishes Louis would sit with Harry and his friends instead. Whatever.

“Guys, have you seen Justin Bieber's new look?” Niall asks out of nowhere. “It’s really bad, oh my god.”

Liam and Zayn furrow their eyebrows and make identical confused expressions. Harry smiles subtly.

“No, what does he look like?” Zayn asks, looking to Liam and Harry for help. Harry has seen it, Justin’s new blonde hair and ‘I don’t actually smoke weed but I want to seem cool so I’ll just pretend that I do’ air about him. He agrees with Niall’s opinion. Celebrities are weird.

“Oh, god, you gotta see it!” Niall pipes up. “I don’t have my phone, though, Do you have yours, Harry?”

Harry shakes his head. “It’s in my locker, here, I’ll go get it.”

Without another word, he stands up from the table and walks out of the cafeteria. Walking slowly down the hall, he trains his eyes on the lockers and lets his arms swing casually by his sides. The hallway is quiet, everyone either in class or lunch at the moment, and his boots make soft clomping noises as he traipses down the tile-covered hallways.

“Boo.”

Harry jumps with a squeak when he hears the soft whisper in his ear. However, he can’t quite keep from smiling when he sees the amused expression on Nick Grimshaw’s face.

“Grimmy!” Harry teases.

“Harold,” Nick teases back, poking Harry in the shoulder lightly. “I got you something.”

Nick holds out a small wrapped gift, handing it to Harry, who takes it from him. Guilt seeps into Harry’s bones, because oh shit. With the craziness of getting Liam, Niall, Zayn, Anne, and Harry’s sister Gemma gifts, Harry had completely forgotten about Nick.

“Oh, shit,” Harry swears, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t get you anything, I’m so sorry.”

Nick makes a _pff_  sound and waves the subject away with his free hand. “It’s fine, you didn’t have to. I just thought, you know, why not, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, still feeling a bit guilty. He accepts the gift from Nick and unwraps it, pulling out the newest _The Fray_   CD. A smile pulls at his lips when he remembers telling Nick he likes The Fray  a while ago. “Nick, this is awesome, thank you so much.”

Nick smiles pridefully and nods, a tiny bit of a blush tinting his cheeks. Harry reaches over and pulls him into a long hug before releasing. They bid their ‘goodbye’s and ‘have a nice holiday’s before walking off.

Harry walks back down the hallway, humming softly to himself as he examines the checker-patterned floors of the school. Finally he turns into the hallway that his locker is in. There’s someone else in the hallway, with his back to Harry as he stands against Harry’s locker.

Harry’s just about to say something when he freezes.

The person standing by Harry’s locker, with a piece of paper and a pen in hand. His posture is hunched and agitated looking. He scribbles down something on that piece of paper and folds it up, brings it to his lips and gives it a small, gentle kiss before slipping it into the slots along the top of Harry’s locker.

And Harry feels like he can’t breathe all of a sudden, his throat closing and his lungs shriveling up. This person is Harry’s so-called ‘Secret Admirer’. This person has been writing Harry all those sweet notes. And Harry is frozen like a popsicle, his heart beating way faster than is natural for a human being. Suddenly, the ring of red roses strung around his head feels too loose and too tight all at once.

Because that person, slipping the paper into his locker.

  
There’s no way that person isn’t Louis.


	11. Chapter 11

All of the breath has been squeezed out of Harry’s lungs. He stands, so still he could be frozen, just watching the figure of beautiful Louis standing at his locker.

 

No.

 

There’s no way.

 

Louis is straight. Louis is the womanizer who has every girl in school wrapped around his pretty little finger. He can’t be Harry’s Secret Admirer.

 

Maybe this is a dream. That’s right. Any minute now Harry will wake up and think, _hey, that was one realistic dream_. Yeah. That’s what’ll happen.

 

But then Louis is turning, and he’s looking right at Harry. His face pales, lips parting and eyes growing as wide as the moon. Harry can’t do anything, can’t move or talk or breathe or do anything other than stare at Louis and think _no, there’s no way this is happening_.

 

“Fuck,” Louis whispers. He seems to be frozen too, staring at Harry and then at the floor and then at his hands and then at Harry again. It seems that even Harry’s heart has seized up, skipping beats like crazy and making him feel weak and numb.

 

And Harry still can’t do anything, unwilling to believe the scene that’s just played out in front of him. What’s happening? What kind of dream is this? Fuck, shit, what the hell is happening?

 

Faster than Harry’s ever seen on the field, Louis is pivoting on his foot and running straight down the hall, his trainers hitting the ground and making loud, echoey noises in the silent hallway. Harry wants to call after him, wants to tell Louis to come back, but he can’t. All he can do is stare.

 

Harry's ragged, choked breaths are making his throat raw, like he’s just run a mile. His heartbeat is still racing and tripping over itself, drumming wildly against his ribcage. It’s a terrifying feeling, like he can’t do anything.

 

There’s a clattering noise and Harry looks down, seeing the album Nick had handed him a minute ago, which has slipped from his limp hand and onto the floor. He bends over and picks it back up numbly, the feeling returning to his legs. And then he’s taking involuntary steps to his locker, his feet on autopilot as his brain stalls continuously. It’s like everything has disappeared from his mind; his interaction with Nick, where he is, what time it is, the gifts his best friends all handed to him and are now sitting in his empty spot in the cafeteria. His mind is focused on Louis, who just slipped a letter into his locker and ran away.

 

Harry still doesn’t think, just does his locker combination as a reflex and opens it up. There, sitting atop his clutter of books, is a note. With shaking hands, Harry clumsily unfolds the fragile paper.

 

The note has the same handwriting as all of the other notes Harry has previously received.

 

_Hello, it’s me again. I think I like you a lot more than I like to admit to. Like, it’s kind of terrifying and I don’t know what to do about it. I want to tell you, fuck, I want to tell the whole world, but I’m too scared. I’m a coward and I can’t do anything about it. I just need you to know that I think you’re the most amazing and beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out. Yours, a very troubled Secret Admirer._

_P.S. People keep asking me what I want for Christmas. All I want is you._

 

Wet spots splat onto the paper and at first Harry wonders why, but then he realizes. Harry is crying. Why he’s crying he’ll never know, but the tears are making his vision watery and his eyes sting.

 

Louis wrote this. Louis Tomlinson wrote this letter and Harry has no idea what he’s supposed to do with this information. Half of him wants to scream and half of him wants to run after Louis and tell him that Harry loves him, that he has for a while.

 

He just sits there and cries instead.

 

***  
  
Harry sits there and cries until his tears run dry, until he can’t do anything more than sit there and sniffle and hold Louis’ note with a shaking, tight hold. The bell signalling the end of lunch rings and Harry shuts his locker, quickly scampering to the nearest bathroom where he can be alone.

 

The world feels like it’s been turned upside down. Stinging, dry eyes read over the paper over and over again, until Harry’s memorized it and his whole mind is just a jumble of _I like you a lot more than I like to admit to_  and _you’re the most amazing and beautiful person I’ve ever met_  and _all I want is you_.

 

Harry should be celebrating, should be jumping for joy and cheering, and somewhere deep inside of him he is doing those things. But most of Harry’s body and mind is just overwhelmed by this sudden and unintentionally acquired information.There’s a large part of him that can’t believe it, can’t accept the fact that Louis is his ‘Secret Admirer’. Then there’s the tiny part of his mind that has accepted this, but doesn’t understand it at all.

 

He’s locked in a stall, feet pulled up to his chest as he perches, fully clothed on top of the cold porcelain toilet. No one else is in the bathroom, everyone in class being productive while Harry wallows in his own disbelief. His green eyes lift, finally, from the paper and he has a sudden realization.

 

He needs to find Louis.

 

Ignoring the parts of him that are telling him _no, stop_ , Harry jumps off of the toilet and holds the paper gently as he unlocks the door and dashes out of the bathroom. He's still holding the album Nick gave him in the same hand as Louis' note, but there's no time to go put it in his locker. He needs to find Louis. Harry realizes that he really doesn’t know where Louis went, but his mind immediately tells him that Louis is at home. Though he doesn’t know if that’s true, Harry stays with his gut feeling and runs on his long legs out of the school.

 

Ragged breaths turn to whisps of smoke as Harry sprints away from the school, running straight toward where he knows Louis’ house is. It’s a far distance, most people would consider it too far to go on foot, but Harry doesn’t care. He needs Louis now and nothing is going to stop him.

 

Eyes dry and stinging from the cold and Harry’s previous crying, Harry pushes on. He ignores the burn in his limbs and in his lungs and just keeps going, pace unwavering and head held high.

 

Sooner than expected he’s arriving at Louis’ house, jogging up the driveway and up to Louis’ front door. He rings the doorbell. No answer. He knocks. Still no answer. For a moment Harry wonders if maybe he was wrong, maybe Louis isn’t home, and he starts walking defeatedly back down the driveway. But one last glance at the seemingly empty house reveals that there’s a light on inside, upstairs where Harry knows Louis’ room is.

 

His old boots make crunching noises in the thin snow as he fast-walks back up the driveway to the door. Only feeling a pang of guilt, he slowly opens up the door and enters the house. He walks in quickly and shuts the door to conserve heat before shedding his jacket and shoes.

 

Harry kind of wants to call for Louis, but his throat still feels stuck together and he can’t manage to get a noise out of himself.

 

Alternatively, Harry walks through the house and up the thin set of stairs that leads to the upper level of the house, feeling his anticipation mount with every step he climbs. Before he knows it he’s feeling prickling sweat under his armpits and on his palms, his heart starting to beat out of line again.

 

To calm himself, Harry begins to sing shakily, “ _I should ink my skin with your name. And take my passport out again, and just replace it. See, I could do without a tan on my left hand where my fourth finger meets my knuckle. And I should run you a hot bath, and fill it up with bubbles_.”

 

It’s the first song that pops into his head, Wake Me Up by Ed Sheeran, a song that always makes him think of Louis. It’s soft and sweet and lovely, just like the boy Harry’s loved for so long.

 

Harry’s walking down the upper hallway now, still singing, “ _‘Cause maybe you’re lovable, and maybe you’re my snowflake. When your eyes turn from green to grey in the winter I’ll hold you in a cold place. And you should never cut your hair, because I love the way you flick it off your shoulder_.”

 

Laying his hand on Louis’ bedroom door, Harry takes a deep breath and sings, softer than ever before, “ _And you will never know just how beautiful you are to me. But maybe I’m just in love when you wake me up._ ”

 

From behind the door Harry can hear soft sniffles, Louis-like sniffles. It’s barely audible, but Harry hears it and he feels his heart break a little bit.

 

Shaking, Harry knocks on the door. It’s the weakest, most fragile knock he’s ever executed, but he can tell Louis hears it because the sniffles stop and it’s all quiet for a moment. Then, “Who’s there?”

 

The small boy’s voice sounds weak and distressed, something Harry’s never heard in Louis’ voice before. Once again, Harry’s heart shatters in his chest and leaves him feeling as weak as Louis' voice sounds. A part of Harry wants to start crying all over again.

 

“Louis?” Harry asks. “It’s, um, Harry.”

 

There’s silence behind the door. Harry’s assumed Louis didn’t hear him and is about to say something again when Louis speaks.

 

“Go away.”

 

“No,” Harry says firmly, even though he’s a tiny bit hurt by Louis’ words and tone. “Can I come in?”

 

Once again, silence. This time it stretches on too long, with no indication that Louis will speak any time soon.

 

“Louis. Please let me in,” Harry speaks softly. He wills Louis to realise that Harry’s not going to rip his head off, isn’t going to say anything mean.

 

“Fine,” Louis finally whispers from behind the door, barely audible once again. “Come in, then.”

 

Harry grips the doorknob with his sweaty hand and turns, revealing Louis’ mess of a room. It’s just like Harry remembers it except that now there are balled up pieces of paper all over the place, which Harry forgets as soon as his eyes find Louis.

 

The boy looks wrecked, broken, like he’s just been told his mum died. His eyes are red and his face is splotchy as if he’s been crying, his lower lip twitching as if he’s about to start all over again. He’s stripped himself of his nice school clothes and is now wearing a pair of grey joggers and an old tee shirt that hangs adorably off of his small frame.

 

But Harry can’t focus on how cute Louis’ clothes look on him, because as soon as he locks his green eyes with Louis’ crystal blue ones it all crashes down on him.

 

This boy, Louis William Tomlinson, has a crush on Harry. He has a huge crush on Harry and he writes Harry notes, sweet notes that tell him how lovely he is. Cute little notes that tell Harry he’s adorable. Short notes that tell Harry that Louis would much like to snog him against a wall.

 

And all along Harry has been careful, has tried to limit physical contact, trying not to cross lines and make Louis uncomfortable. But those things have made Louis believe that Harry doesn’t like him that way, wouldn’t like to kiss him or hold his hand or fuck him when really Harry’s just been afraid. And Louis is afraid too, as it said in his notes, afraid of his attraction to Harry and afraid of the fact that he likes Harry as more than a friend.

 

But Louis _likes_  Harry, would like to kiss him as much as Harry wants to kiss Louis. He’s written Harry note after note and told Harry that he’s beautiful, told Harry he’s worth way more than the shit he gets.

 

And every time Harry’s asked Louis what he wants for Christmas, what has Louis answered with? _Nothing_.

 

Except that Louis was lying.

 

Louis wants Harry.

 

“Fuck, Harry, stop looking at me like that,” Louis whispers, voice sounding strained with previously unshed tears.

 

“Like what?” Harry asks. His heart is pounding out of control and no, this isn’t a dream. Dreams can’t make you feel like this. In dreams, you don’t get this feeling like your brain is on overdrive and your heart is about to explode and your lungs are constricted. No. This is really, actually happening.

 

“Like…” Louis pauses for a moment, blinking more than is necessary as he stares into Harry’s eyes. “Like you feel bad for me. Like you don’t know how to let me down easy.”

 

No. No no no, that’s not it at all. “Louis, I do feel bad for you,” Harry admits, choosing his words carefully. He’s about to continue when Louis starts speaking again.

 

“I know,” Louis whispers. Before Harry can interject he continues, “I’m so, so sorry. I’m… I don’t even know what to say. There’s no point in lying-”

 

“Louis,” Harry tries to say, but Louis holds up a trembling hand to stop him.

 

“There’s no point in lying, so I’m just gonna come clean. Yes, I have a crush on you. It’s weird, because we’re, like, really good friends and stuff, but I can’t help it. _Fuck_ , Harry, I tried not to. I tried to ignore it whenever I felt the need to… like… kiss you, and stuff, but I… I couldn’t. It was like, I’d never felt this way about anyone before, not even girls, and I didn’t know what to do.”

 

Harry attempts to speak again, to stop Louis. But Louis doesn’t let him.

 

“Because I think about you so much, Harry. I cuddle a pillow every night, like, wishing that I could cuddle you instead. So I thought, ‘hey, maybe if I write him notes, I’ll stop being so obsessed.’ So I did, anonymously, and I felt a little better. And the next day I did it again, and then it became a habit. But then I was scared, because the more I wrote them, the more I thought about you. It was like writing the notes was making it worse.”

 

“Louis, I-" Harry attempts once again, but Louis just keeps speaking to stop Harry from talking.

 

“And then you caught me. I ran away because I was scared, but you came after me anyway. And now we’re all caught up.” Louis takes a deep, shaky breath. Tears are brimming his eyelids again, sticking his long eyelashes together as he blinks rapidly and chokes out, “Now you can let me down easy.”

 

Louis’ words leave Harryfeeling numb and vulnerable. The whole story makes his heart swell and break over and over again, making Harry feel so many different emotions that it’s hard to place which ones he’s even feeling.

 

Harry stares at Louis from across the room as a fragile tear slips from the small boy's right eye. Louis immediately wipes it away, seeming frustrated and disappointed that he couldn’t hold himself together.

 

“Louis,” Harry starts. He clears his throat and clears all of the emotion from his tone as well. “I feel bad for you because you had to go through the whole ‘oh no, I have a crush on a boy’ thing all on your own.”

 

Louis gapes. Then, louder and suddenly frustrated, he yells, “Well, I would’ve told you, but then you had to go all lovey-dovey for stupid _Grimshaw_  and I didn’t want to make everything awkward for you.”

 

Harry gasps. Louis thinks that Harry likes… Nick? “What? No, me and Nick are only friends.”

 

“But you _l_ _ike_  him,” Louis accuses, crossing his arms over his chest and standing defiantly against the wall. “I’ve heard the way you two flirt on the radio show. And then that little exchange in the hallway. Who gives their ‘friend’ a signed The Fray album and then hugs him for a way longer time than is necessary?”

 

The words shock Harry a little bit, but yeah, he gets where Louis is coming from. After all, him and Nick do flirt a little bit, but it’s all just fun for Harry. He doesn’t like Nick in that way. Also… “That album was signed?”

 

Harry looks down at the album clutched in the same hand as Louis’ letter. The front doesn’t have any signatures on it, but when Harry flips it over he sees the scribbled names of the band members. Which. Okay.

 

“You don’t have to deny it, Harry,” Louis says in a broken voice, sniffling once again and looking down at the carpet.

 

“Yes, I do, because I don’t like him in that way,” Harry explains. His tone is defiant and honest, and it makes Louis looks up at him. Hope is etched into his red-rimmed eyes, and Harry really wants to kiss him. It’s kind of overwhelming.

 

“Oh,” is all that comes out of Louis’ parted lips.

 

Harry is struck with a sudden memory. “Louis.”

 

“What?” Louis asks. He looks confused, like Harry’s sudden firm tone surprises him. Honestly, it surprises Harry a bit too.

 

“If you like me…” the words feel weird coming out of Harry’s mouth. It makes him blush, acknowledging the fact that wow, Louis really likes him, and this is real. “Then who’s that person you were crushing on? Initials F.B.?”

 

Louis blushes hard and hides his face in his hands. “Harry, what’s my favorite nickname for you?”

 

Harry thinks back to the many times Louis has called him by nicknames. His mind is a bit clouded by the conversation they're having and how adorable Louis looks, blushing and peeking at Harry from between his fingers, but eventually an answer surfaces from his hazy brain. “Hazza?”  
  
Harry’s beautiful crush shakes his head. “No.”

 

“Um…” Harry thinks for a second, then asks, “Curly?”

 

Louis shakes his head once again. “No. Think harder.”

 

But no matter how hard he tries, Harry can’t think of a different nickname. His mind is so blocked up by the craziness of the current conversation that Harry can’t think right. “I give up.”

 

“Harry,” Louis shakes his head, seemingly disappointed. “My favorite nickname for you is Flower Boy.”

 

Flower Boy. _FB_. The realization hits Harry like a truck, knocking the wind out of him as he stares at Louis’ rapidly reddening cheeks. Heart rate speeding up, Harry gapes at Louis and wills himself to wake up if this is a dream.

 

He doesn’t wake up.  
  
“Wait, so you… have a crush… on me?” Harry asks as if realizing it for the first time. “That doesn’t even make sense.”  
  


Louis buries his fingers in his fluffy, tousled hair and pulls frustratedly. “Yes it does, Harry, I’ve been so obvious it’s ridiculous. I hug you all the time. I asked you about gay sex. I _popped a boner while we were cuddling_ , for Christ’s sake.”

 

Well. Harry thinks back to the previous few months, Louis’ odd behaviour and his constant physical contact. The way Louis looks at him sometimes, like Harry is the only one Louis cares about. Louis is right, how did Harry never notice?

 

“Oh,” Harry mumbles. He clears his throat and decides that this is the time. He’s gonna do it. He’s finally going to tell Louis. “I… Um, I kind of...”

 

“What is it?” Louis asks incredulously. He looks a bit tortured by the way Harry won’t just say it, keeps biting on his lower lip and stuttering. “Spit it out, Hazza.”

 

“I’ve had a huge crush on you for like three years and I’m kind of falling for you,” Harry blurts, talking way faster than he normally does. That last part was a lie, because Harry’s already fallen hard. But he doesn’t want to scare Louis away, so.

 

Louis is gaping at him, pink lips stretched into a small ‘o’ shape as he stares at Harry. “You… have a crush… on me.” He states, as if asking if Harry is playing some sort of prank on him.

 

“Yeah,” Harry whispers, dragging a large hand through his hair and biting on his lip.

 

“Oh,” Louis whispers back. “Okay.”

 

And then they’re just staring at each other, eyes locked. Neither of them seems willing to look away. Harry wants to just run up to Louis and kiss that enticing mouth, kiss him until Louis can’t breathe, but he holds back.

 

He holds back because every time he thinks of kissing Louis, his mind flashes back to Josh, his crush from so long ago. His mind reminds him that _if you kiss Louis, he could run away and never come back. Just like Josh._

Louis takes a small step forward, seems as if he half expects Harry to step back. But Harry just stays in place, a little frozen as Louis continues walking closer.

 

And suddenly Louis' face is no more than six inches away from Harry's, the boy looking up at him through long eyelashes. He brushes his own hair tentatively to the side, eyes still locked on Harry’s.

 

“I’m just, um.” Louis whispers, and then.

 

And then they’re kissing.

 

Louis is pressing his lips lightly, so lightly to Harry’s. It’s soft enough that Harry could easily push him off, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, eyes still open for a second, before comprehending that, yes, Louis is kissing him.

 

So Harry wraps his long arms around Louis’ torso as Louis tangles his own fingers behind Harry’s neck. As soft as Louis, Harry flutters his eyelids closed and kisses back.

 

The kiss is so gentle, so very tender and it’s unbelievable. It makes Harry feel as if his whole body is numb, like there are little fireworks exploding everywhere and filling him up with heavenly smoke.

 

Louis’ soft, pink lips are rubbing gently against Harry’s own, the kisses light and close-mouthed. It’s like Louis is scared that if he kisses too hard Harry will break, like Harry is some fragile being. It makes Harry feel important, which is a beautiful feeling.

 

And Harry’s never kissed like this before, never had somebody who actually wanted to kiss him. Christ, this is Harry’s first real kiss, and it’s so wonderful that Harry’s sure he’s been ruined for anyone else.

 

Harry tenses and gasps, arms spasming slightly around Louis’ torso when he feels something wet and warm glide across the seam of his lips. And that’s Louis’ tongue, _oh_ , making Harry shudder against Louis’ warm body. Louis takes that as an invitation and slips his tongue into Harry’s mouth.

 

Harry’s never kissed like this before either, with tongues and snogging and soft moans. Without truly knowing what he’s doing, Harry tentatively closes his lips around Louis’ hot tongue and suckles.

 

Louis gasps and whimpers unexpectedly at that, making Harry tingle in the best way possible. He can feel his pants begin to tighten around his swelling cock, but he ignores that little bit of information as he continues to kiss Louis.

 

Repeatedly, Louis licks into Harry’s mouth as they stand in the middle of the room. Harry attempts to keep up as best as possible, licking into Louis’ mouth every once in a while and moaning lowly when Louis bites and sucks on his lower lip.

 

Then Louis begins to walk Harry backward, mouth still attached to Harry’s as Harry stumbles blindly back. Eventually his calf hits the bedframe but Louis just continues to push him, forcing Harry to lay down against the bed and take what Louis' mouth is giving.

 

Louis detaches his mouth from Harry’s for just a moment to shuffle him up the bed, so that Harry is leaning against the headboard. Then, Louis squirms up Harry’s body until their legs are tangled, Louis’ obviously hard cock pressed to Harry’s thigh. Even through two layers of clothes Harry can feel it, and it makes his heartbeat stutter for a moment before Louis is reataching their lips and then Harry forgets how to think.

 

Their kisses are getting more and more filthy the longer they kiss, Louis now sucking on Harry’s tongue as Harry moans helplessly. Harry’s poor cock is so very hard, pressing against the zipper of his tight jeans as Louis continues to do filthy things to his mouth.

 

Then suddenly Louis is separating their lips, and Harry is just about to ask why when he flutters his eyes open to find Louis staring at him intensely.

 

“Um.” Harry says dumbly. Louis’ gaze is just so fierce on him, boring into Harry as if he wants to see into Harry’s soul.

 

“God, you’re pretty” Louis growls, his voice a few octaves lower than usual and pupils blown from lust. “Your _mouth_ , Jesus. So pretty.”

 

And Harry’s stripped raw by these words, hard cock twitching in his overly-tight trousers where it’s contained. He’s about to return the compliment - or say something stupid, which is the more likely alternative - when Louis ducks down and begins to mouth at Harry’s neck.

 

“Oh my fucking - _Louis_ ,” Harry moans, desperately clutching at the sheets on Louis’ bed and throwing his head back. Louis’ fluffy hair is making the underside of Harry’s jaw tingle as he fastens his lips around Harry’s exposed Adam’s apple and suckles lightly. Harry whimpers and tightens his knuckles around the bed sheets, trying his hardest to contain his loud moans as Louis sucks gently on his neck.

 

Then Louis' licking at the spot and moving, re-attaching his mouth to a sensitive spot just under Harry’s ear and sucking. This time he sucks hard, making Harry moan loudly and shudder. Louis just won’t stop sucking, the wetness of his mouth making Harry’s nerves go into overdrive.

 

To stop himself from eliciting any more embarrassing noises, Harry brings one hand up and stuffs his knuckles into his mouth, still gripping the sheets with the other. Louis continues to suck and lick at Harry’s neck for a while before he stops suddenly, bringing his head back up to look at Harry.

 

His expression is confused and a little disappointed, but Harry can’t figure out why. Is Harry not good enough of a kisser? Does he smell bad? Shoot, is Louis finally realizing that he doesn’t like Harry after all?

 

“You stopped,” is all Louis says.

 

Harry draws his red and bitten knuckles out of his mouth and answers, “What?”

 

By way of an answer, Louis suddenly presses his thigh to Harry’s cock. Harry releases a high-pitched whimper, immediately covering his mouth and blushing.

 

“No, Hazza,” Louis whispers, drawing Harry’s hand away from his mouth and pecking his lips, making Harry’s entire body feel tingly. “Don’t do that. Wanna hear all your pretty little moans and whimpers. Makes me so - fucking - hard.”

 

He punctuates the last few words by grinding his own hips against Harry’s throbbing, clothed cock. It makes Harry whimper and grip his hands to the bars of Louis' headboard, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure.

 

And then Harry feels Louis' tongue licking back into his parted lips, Louis' own soft lips kissing at Harry's. Harry is drawn back into the rhythm of kissing Louis, the boys licking greedily into each other's mouths and moaning every once in a while.

 

At some point Louis begins to rub his cock slowly against Harry's, making Harry whimper into the kiss and get lost in the feeling of the friction between their hard, clothed cocks.

 

Eventually it becomes too much, and Harry begins to meet Louis' steady grinds to try and relieve some of the pressure built up against his throbbing cock.

 

"Harry, fuck, you need to stop or I'm gonna-" Louis is cut off mid-sentence by a long, low moan as Harry pushes his hips up and rubs hard against Louis' cock.

 

Louis moves his mouth to nuzzle and bite at Harry's jaw, making Harry's cock throb even harder in his tight pants and trousers.

 

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Louis whimpers, rutting against Harry's cock ruthlessly now, desperately claiming the friction and moaning from the pleasure. "Fuck, I'm gonna come in my pants."

 

Harry's heart stutters and his eyes fly open when Louis utters these words. It's... really hot, ridiculously hot that Louis thinks he can come untouched just from rubbing his clothed cock against Harry's.

 

"Yeah," Harry groans, shifting his hips to get better friction. "Yeah, me too."

 

Louis' hand seems to find it's way to Harry's obvious bulge, covering the massive tent in his trousers. It's like nothing Harry's ever felt before, the feeling of Louis palming him somewhat lazily through his clothes.

 

"Harry, do you ever think about me while you wank?" Louis asks suddenly, panting as he palms Harry and ruts his cock against Harry's thigh at the same time.

 

"Yeah, yeah," Harry admits. Honestly, he's hard and about to come just from kissing. He's past the point of embarrassment.

 

"Tell me what you think about," Louis demands. He's looking into Harry's eyes now, pupils so blown that there's only a tiny strip of that sparkling blue visible.

 

"Okay," Harry nods, pressing a kiss to Louis' temple before he's panting, "I always imagine you tying me to the bed and teasing me."

 

"Fuck, details," Louis pleads, rubbing his cock harder against Harry's thigh and palming him a little faster.

 

"Like, you wouldn't let me come until you said I could, so like, you would suck me and eat me out and fuck me until I can't hold it in anymore and you finally say I can come."

 

"Shit, Hazza, that's so hot, keep going."

 

Harry moans as Louis rubs the palm of his hand just right against Harry's clothed cock.

 

"Okay," Harry continues, "you would always call me princess, and I would be your good boy and take what you give me. And I -"

 

He's cut off by a loud moan coming from his own mouth as Louis rubs his own cock against Harry's once again.

 

"You what?" Louis asks desperately, grinding against Harry's cock and panting against his collarbone.

 

"I always - fuck - always called you Daddy," Harry gasps out. It's a little embarrassing to admit because honestly, who admits to things like that?

 

But Harry's embarrassment is gone when Louis suddenly spasms and moans louder than ever, the rhythm of his grinds becoming erratic for a few moments. And then Louis is collapsing against Harry, labored breaths against Harry's collarbone leaving Harry with the impression that he's content and suddenly sleepy.

 

"Louis, did you..?" Harry asks tentatively. His cock is hard and throbbing and Louis needs to move, needs to do something, because Harry was about two seconds from coming and he kind of wants to cry out of sexual frustration.

 

"Sorry," Louis apologizes, already flushed cheeks reddening. "I couldn't help it. I came in my pants for you, princess."

 

And that's it. Harry is pushing his hips up against Louis' round arse and coming, the sticky substance coating the inside of his previously soft pants. Louis rolls his hips down into Harry's cock as he pushes through his orgasm, string after string of warm, wet come staining the inside of Harry's ruined pants and creating a wet spot on the front of his trousers identical to Louis'.

 

It's decidedly the best orgasm of Harry's life, also probably the best thing to ever happen to him.

 

Then Harry's becoming boneless and pliant against the headboard of Louis' bed, the soft boy nestled against his chest, both of them cuddly and orgasm-happy.

 

They lay there for a long time, both of them still trapped in wet trousers and sticky pants but Harry just can't bring himself to care. He's pretty sure Louis is the same way.

 

Eventually Harry can tell that Louis is asleep, or at least, he's pretty sure. The boy's breaths are steady and slow, a nice soft rhythm to them that has Harry's eyelids drooping.

 

"Harry?" Louis suddenly whispers. So apparently he's not asleep. "Even though we were both fully clothed and now I have come stuck on my pants, I think that was the best orgasm of my life."

 

Harry's whole body feels numb with hopefulness and excitement. "You think?"

 

"No," Louis decides after a thoughtful moment. "I know."

 

And Harry's smiling into Louis' hair, settling them down more comfortably on Louis' mattress. No words need to be said as he carefully lays both of them down sideways.

 

Softly, so softly, he kisses Louis' pretty lips. The boy's eyes are closed, but he smiles and hums happily when he feels Harry's lips peck his own. Because Harry can do that now. He can kiss Louis whenever he wants, and Louis will accept it.

 

Harry then gives Louis' hair an affectionate stroke and turns over on the bed. A bit embarrassingly for how big he is, Harry likes to be the little spoon. Judge him, I dare you. He lays there until he feels Louis' warm arm wrap around his waist and tuck him into Louis' front, no hesitation in the way Louis holds him close.

 

 _I love you,_  Harry thinks.

 

Louis is warm and his arm is heavy around Harry's waist, grounding him, like an anchor. Louis is like Harry's anchor. Harry's still feeling some of the aftereffects of his orgasm, the drowsiness in his tired mind finally comprehending the fact that Louis just made him come. More importantly, _Harry_   made _Louis_ come. And Louis came first.

 

He falls asleep happier than he's ever been before, snuggling into Louis’ warmth pressed against his back.

 

As Harry’s drifting off, he can’t help but think of how wonderful his life has become in a mere hour or so. Because Louis _likes_ Harry, and Louis _kissed_  Harry, and Louis gave Harry an _orgasm_. And it’s a little bit ridiculous, the fact that Harry and Louis have been skirting around each other for so long, but Harry can’t bring himself to care. Because he’s here now, and he’s snuggled up with Louis, orgasm-content and feeling happier than he has in a really long time.

  
And everything is just perfect.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've returned from the dead! Sorry about the long ass wait guys, I've had massive writer's block (which is probably why this chapter is so crappy). Anyway, I'm sorry once again and I hope this chapter isn't too bad. (: xx

Harry wakes up to the most peculiar and lovely feeling he's ever experienced. He can't properly think for a moment, his body seemingly filled with cotton and his brain fuzzy with static.

 

When he finally figures out what's happening he realizes that somebody is stroking along the part in his long curls, where his scalp is accessible. The person is stroking along his scalp and then moving their hand to smooth down his curls, doing this over and over again. It feels unbelievably good, and Harry when finally gains the ability to move, he snuggles into the pillow underneath his head.

 

But, wait.

 

That's not a pillow. That's... a person? What?

 

Harry cracks open his eyelids and is met with the sight of Louis, beautiful Louis, smiling down at him. Louis is sitting against the headboard, stroking Harry's curls and rubbing at his scalp. And Harry is lying against Louis' belly, his arm draped over Louis' waist.

 

Not able to help it, Harry shoots Louis a small, sleepy smile and leans back into Louis' hand as a silent invitation to keep going. It’s a subconscious thing when Harry snuggles a little closer to Louis’ warm body and sighs happily.

 

“You’re like a little kitten,” Louis coos. Harry’s struck with how soft his voice is, how very fond he sounds. It’s weird, in a good way. Maybe ‘unbelievable’ would be the better word to explain it .

 

Which. Harry’s heart stutters for a moment as he remembers the events that occurred before Harry fell asleep.

 

Louis and Harry kissed. And Louis said he has a crush on Harry. And, oh god, Harry peeks down at the front of his trousers.

 

Yep. There’s a wet spot.

 

It strikes Harry that, yeah, this is unbelievable. And not in the _oh my god, that’s so wonderful_   way, but Harry legitimately can not believe it. After all, Harry can’t just _make_  Louis gay. He would have to be born that way. And why would Louis have a crush on Harry, of all people?

 

A cold weight of unease settles in Harry’s belly as he lays against Louis’ body. As much as he wants to believe Louis, he kind of can’t. He decides to say something about it.

 

“Louis?” Harry asks softly. Louis smiles at Harry and scratches along the part in Harry’s curls.

 

“Hmm?” he hums, looking content and happy. Harry thinks he looks beautiful.

 

“Um…” Harry sits up so that he can talk better, strategically covering the wet spot on his trousers with the blanket draped across Louis’ bed. Louis makes a disgruntled noise at Harry moving, but nevertheless allows him to sit up and get comfortable. Harry sits so that him and Louis aren’t touching, so that Harry is just facing Louis. After all, touching Louis would just be a distraction from the matter at hand. Harry continues, “Like, are you sure you like me?”

 

“What?” Louis asks, looking at Harry like he’s crazy. “Of course I’m sure. Why do you ask?”

 

Harry takes a deep breath. “Well… I just feel like it’s not possible? Because, like, you’re straight, and I can’t just make you gay. That’s not how it works.”

 

Of course, Harry hadn’t meant for his words to be hurtful, but an expression of hurt shadows over Louis’ features. The blue-eyed boy gets these little frown lines around his mouth and a crease between his eyebrows. It’s kind of adorable and kind of heartbreaking.

 

“Harry, I don’t think I’m straight,” Louis admits. Harry’s heart seizes up for a second and his lips part involuntarily, because _what_? “Wait, I take that back. I know I'm not straight. After all, I’ve never felt anything for any girls at all. But, like, a warm hole is a warm hole, right? And, I know this is stupid, but it made the guys like me more when I… you know.”

 

Yeah. Of course those boys would like Louis because he fucks a lot of girls.

 

Harry’s whole body feels warm. He’s not touching Louis at all anymore, but just Louis’ words make him feel light and warm and unbelievably happy. Louis is gay. Louis is actually gay. Holy shit.

 

“Oh,” Harry whispers. He giggles, a grin overtaking his face. “So, you’re gay? Or are you bisexual? Like, do you like boys and girls?”

 

Louis ponders it for a moment. “I think I’m Harry-sexual.”

 

What? Harry frowns confusedly. “What does that mean?”

 

“It means I like boys called Harry and that’s it,” Louis smiles at Harry. There’s a light freckling of blush over his cheeks, and Harry’s heart flutters. Louis is Harry-sexual. That’s the most beautiful thing Harry’s ever been told.

 

So Harry leans forward and nuzzles his face into Louis’ cheek, something he’s wanted to do for a while. And now he finally can. Louis’ light smattering of scruff is a little scratchy on Harry’s smooth skin, but it’s a lovely sensation. Harry can’t help but press a tiny kiss to Louis’ jaw. Louis giggles and pushes at Harry’s chest, in a way that says he really doesn’t want Harry to stop but he’s gonna pretend like he does.

 

Just then, in the midst of his happy, Louis-loving haze, Harry realizes how uncomfortable his pants are. They’re all gross with dried come. He pulls back, shifts his legs, and frowns.

 

“You okay?” Louis asks. Harry glances down and realizes that Louis had changed while Harry was asleep, is now wearing black trackies and most likely a clean pair of pants. Harry’s a little jealous.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry lies. He remembers all of his shit is still at school, groaning. “I need to go get my crap from school.”

 

“Same,” Louis answers. He glances at a clock on his wall, which reads 2:45. “There’s still time to go get it. Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

 

Harry nods and stands up off of the bed.

 

“Oh, and Harry?” Louis asks. “I think I’ve got a pair of trousers you can borrow.”

 

***

 

As Harry opens his locker, his uncomfortable pants rubbing a little painfully against his nether regions, Harry sighs unhappily. It’s not like he’s going to borrow a pair of Louis’ pants, and he doesn’t have any extras just lying around.

 

But as Harry’s extracting his crap from his locker he comes across the box that Niall gave him for Christmas.

 

Well, it’s not like anyone will know.

 

Harry shuts his locker and scampers over to the bathroom, carrying his stuff and the box of girl’s panties with him. He locks himself in a stall and opens the box, gazing at it’s contents.

 

There’s an assortment of different colors, all of the panties lacy and pretty-looking. Blushing even though nobody can see him, Harry extracts a pair of black and white striped panties with a little bow on the front. He carefully pops the tag off and strips off his gross, come-stained pants.

 

Taking a deep breath, Harry slides the soft fabric of the lacy pants up his legs.

 

He’s struck numb by how free it feels, none of the clinginess of his normal pants existing around his upper thighs. The panties are stretched a little to accommodate his cock (they’re meant for girls, after all) but it feels nice and free, for no better word to explain it. And Harry’s never worn a thong before, but it’s definitely not as uncomfortable as it seems like it would be. It just feels different and unconfined, his perky little bum on display. The fabric of the pants is soft and low-sitting on his hips.

 

Frankly, Harry feels pretty.

 

There’s no other way to explain it. As Harry slips back on the trackies Louis allowed him to borrow, he can’t help but feel pretty. The soft inner fabric of Louis’ trackies rubs in a wonderful way against his inner thighs and bum, making Harry feel almost like he’s going commando.

 

Honestly? Harry loves it.

 

He quickly gathers the rest of his things and walks down the hallway to the front of the school, where he and Louis had said they’d meet. Feeling more confident and sexy than he has in his whole life, with his black and white panties and coincidentally matching white rose flower crown, Harry walks out of the doors of the school. Louis is waiting in his car, scrolling on his phone as he waits for Harry.

 

“Hi, Lou,” Harry says when he climbs into the car. Louis looks up from his phone and turns it off, then just stares at Harry for a moment. Then two. Then three. Just as Harry’s starting to wonder if Louis has x-ray vision and can tell that Harry is wearing girl’s pants, Louis grabs the collar of his tee-shirt.

 

Before Harry can really comprehend what’s happening, Louis is kissing him. It makes Harry feel light and warm, like he could walk on air.

 

Just as Harry’s settling into the kiss, Louis pulls back. His face is flushed and sheepish. He looks kind of adorable.

 

“What was that for?” Harry asks, his lips tingling a bit from being pressed to Louis’.

 

Louis just shrugs. “Sorry. I just wanted to.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Harry tuts. A little hesitantly, he leans over and presses his lips to Louis’ cute little cheek. “You can do that whenever you want.”

 

Louis’ grin is bright and happy and almost splits his face in half when Harry utters these words. It’s like Harry just told a little kid they would be getting a puppy. Louis reaches up and put his fingers to his own cheek, feeling where Harry just kissed him.

 

Which. Okay. Louis is probably the cutest person ever.

 

“Harry, can I be honest?” Louis asks. These words make Harry feel uncomfortable and nervous. He doesn’t think Louis will say anything bad, but it’s like he just said the words ‘we need to talk’. Those words will make anyone nervous.

 

“Um. Sure?”

 

“I don’t really know what to do with…” he waves his hand around aimlessly, “this kind of stuff. Especially with another guy.”

 

“What kind of stuff?” Harry asks confusedly.

 

“Like, how you said I can kiss you if I want. I don’t know how to do those kind of things,” Louis admits. He looks sheepish and embarrassed about it, which makes him look adorable.

 

“It’s okay, Lou,” Harry tells him. He reaches over and touches Louis’ arm with his fingertips. “It’s not that complicated. If you want to kiss me, you can do it as long as it’s not a bad time. And you can tell me things if you want. Like, if I’m being too clingy, or if you’re getting tired of me or whatever, you can tell me that and I’ll stop.”

 

“Okay,” Louis answers, smiling at Harry. It takes Harry’s breath away a little bit because Louis’ smile is this bright, wonderful _thing_ that makes Harry feel like a giggly school girl.

 

And then Louis is leaning forward and kissing Harry once again, something that Harry will probably never get used to. He gets such a buzz from kissing Louis, an adrenaline rush if you will. It makes Harry feel as if he could lift a car, or two, or a hundred.

 

Louis is cupping Harry’s cheeks lightly, the fingers of his right hand slipping back to tangle in Harry’s curls. The two boys continue to kiss softly, close-mouthed, as Louis threads his fingers through Harry’s hair and tugs a bit.

 

Oh no. Harry quickly swallows his moan and wills his blood to stay away from his crotch, focusing on the soft press of Louis’ soft lips instead.

 

But then Louis is pulling back, looking deeply into Harry’s eyes with his fingers still buried in Harry’s curls.

 

“Hi,” Harry whispers, all other thoughts escaping his mind. Louis is still close, slowly removing his fingers from Harry’s hair and smoothing his palms down the sides of Harry’s face.

 

“We should probably go home before somebody sees us,” Louis says. He makes no move to start up the car.

 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. A few more seconds pass and Louis is still not moving, still just cupping Harry’s cheeks and staring at him. Harry giggles, pawing at Louis’ chest. “Louis, come on.”

 

Louis smiles and giggles back. He gives Harry’s lips one last peck before leaning forward and whispering in Harry’s ear, “You’re so cute.”

 

His lips ghost over the shell of Harry’s ear as he speaks, soft words making Harry shiver involuntarily. Louis thinks that Harry is cute. Oh my god. Harry’s stomach fills with butterflies.

 

Louis starts up the car and drives out of the parking lot. When he passes by Harry’s house Harry looks at him questioningly.

 

“Lou?” Harry asks. “Where are we going?”

 

“Back to my house, why?” Louis asks, not looking away from the road. Harry looks out the window to hide the grin pushing at his cheeks.

 

“Okay. No reason,” Harry answers. God damn it, he can hear the smile in his own voice.

 

***

 

When they arrive at the Tomlinson house, Louis walks straight to the living room and flops down on the couch. Harry follows after him and sits in front of the couch, facing Louis. The blue eyed boy blinks, stares at Harry for a second.

 

Then he bolts upright.

 

"Harry," he suddenly says.

 

"Yeah?" Harry asks, confused at Louis' sudden change in attitude. The boy is staring at Harry, gaping, his blue eyes sparkling with the afternoon light filtering in through the thin curtains.

 

"You... You like me?" Louis asks, sounding desperate for some reason.

 

Harry furrows his eyebrows. He blushes as he answers, "Um... yeah? I thought we established this a few hours ago?"

 

"No, it's just... oh my god," Louis whispers, sounding awestruck and overwhelmed. He grabs Harry's cheeks in his hands, stroking along the smooth skin with his thumbs. "You're... you're serious. I don't... I can't..."

 

Harry is just about to ask what's wrong when Louis leans down, dragging Harry's face up a bit to kiss him. It's not a soft and sweet kiss, it's forceful and desperate and beautiful and Harry loves it all the same.

 

It's a little unbelievable, the fact that Louis is willingly doing this. Harry kind of can't understand what's happening, Louis liking him as more than a friend and Harry being able to kiss this wonderful boy. But it's amazing, it's what Harry's always dreamed of, and as he sits up on his knees, placing his hands on Louis' thighs for stability as they kiss, he thinks to himself _I will never get tired of this_.

 

They continue to kiss for a few minutes, the desperation of it melting away as Harry rubs up and down Louis' lower thigh. Eventually Louis slips his tongue stealthily into Harry's mouth, and they just make out slowly for a bit. It's kind of the best thing ever.

 

Until, "Louis?"

 

Harry's eyes, which he can't remember closing, fly open when he hears the female voice.

 

Louis quickly pulls away from Harry, hands still cupping his jaw. Both boys simultaneously turn their heads to seek out the person who just spoke.

 

As their eyes land on four little girls, Harry mentally cringes. He's positioned on his knees between Louis' legs, which are spread in a v-shape to accommodate him, Harry’s hands still rested on Louis' thighs. It's a rather inappropriate position, he notices, and thankfully they're both fully clothed or the girls might have been scarred. Well, more scarred than they probably already are, at least.

 

"Um. Welcome home," Louis greets, removing a hand from Harry's face to wave as he smiles sheepishly.

 

The girls just continue to stare and gape at the two boys. Embarrassed, Harry giggles and hides his face in Louis' neck, absentmindedly breathing in Louis' sweet scent.

 

"Were you guys kissing?" Harry hears one of the twins finally ask.

 

He lifts his face from Louis’ neck and looks at the girls, feeling Louis' arms circle behind his back. Naturally, he rests his head on Louis chest and blushes.

 

"No, we were-" he starts, wanting to save Louis the embarrassment of coming out to his sisters before he wants to.

 

"Yeah," Louis interrupts. He tugs on one of Harry's curls, laying his chin on top of Harry's head after carefully removing his white flower crown.

 

Harry is suddenly aware of an odd sensation near his bum, when he remembers, oh yeah. He's wearing girl's panties. He blushes harder.

 

“But Louis, I thought you said Harry doesn’t like you like that,” Fizzy states confusedly. She’s looking at Louis rather than Harry.

 

Also, what? Louis told his sisters about his crush on Harry? Butterflies fill Harry’s stomach as he whispers ‘I love you’ under his breath.

 

“I thought he didn’t,” Louis says. His voice makes his chest vibrate, and Harry is struck by how _real_  this is. Like, this is really happening. Harry is in a daze of happiness. Louis continues, “But, as it turns out, he does.”

 

Smiling, Harry nods against Louis’ chest and feels Louis nuzzle his chin into Harry’s curls in disgruntlement. The girls finally look from Louis to Harry, and Harry is surprised to see happiness etched into the lines of their little faces.

 

“Hello, Harry,” Lottie greets. “Thank you for finally kissing my brother.”

 

Harry laughs. “Finally?”

 

“Yeah,” Fizzy interjects, “he’s always talking about you. He’s like, ‘Harry’s so cute’, ‘Harry’s so funny’, ‘why is Harry so-’”

 

“Alright, that’s quite enough,” Louis interrupts from above Harry, sounding embarrassed. Harry’s chest is full of warmth at the thought of Louis obsessing over Harry to his little sisters. Then again, Harry obsesses about Louis to his mum, but Louis never needs to know that.

 

To save Louis any more embarrassment, and because he feels like he’s intruding, Harry carefully removes himself from Louis’ grasp and stands up. He smooths out his shirt and Louis’ trousers, ignoring the peculiar sensation of the panties he’s got on.

 

“I should get going,” Harry announces, mostly to Louis. A shadow of disappointment crosses over Louis’ cute little face before it’s wiped clean and replaced by one of indifference.

 

“Okay, walk you to the door?” Louis asks, smiling and standing up without giving Harry a chance to decline. Not that he would, anyway. Harry would never pass up a few extra moments with the boy he loves.

 

The boys walk to the door, and neither one of them talks as Harry puts on his shoes and jacket. Once he’s all bundled up and ready to go, Harry smiles at Louis.

 

“Thanks for letting me borrow these,” he motions to the trackies. “And for taking me to school… And for kissing me… And for saying you like me back… Okay, I’m gonna go before I say something else stupid.”

 

He smiles one last time and turns to go, but Louis grabs his hand. Harry can’t help but giggle as he’s tugged back to Louis.

 

“No, Harry,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

 

And then he kisses Harry, and it’s the best one yet, Harry thinks. Finally he knows what people mean when they feel a ‘spark’, because he almost wants to shiver from the spark that rips through his body when Louis kisses him. The kiss is soft and sweet and it feels like everything Louis isn’t saying is conveyed through the kiss.

 

Louis really, really likes Harry. And it’s beautiful.

 

***

 

Over the next week or so, Harry learns two things.

 

1\.  He really, really likes wearing women's panties, and

 

2\. Louis is a hopeless romantic.

 

It took Harry by surprise a little, seeing as Louis is mostly just known for his one-night stands, but yeah. Louis is the most romantic person he’s ever met.

 

It all started with a text the morning after Harry first kissed Louis.

 

From Louis:

Good morning Hazza. Just want you to know that you’re beautiful. xx

 

Harry had smiled at that, feeling something warm and light and unstoppable spread throughout his body. If anyone ever asks him what love feels like, he’ll explain this feeling.

 

After that Louis kept asking Harry to come over, or asking if Harry wanted to do something. But sadly, there was never a time when they were both free. Gemma, Harry’s sister, visited Harry and Anne for a few days before returning to uni (she freaked out when Harry told her about Louis). Then Louis had family coming over for a while, and there was just never a time when they could get together to do something.

 

Nevertheless, Harry’s phone kept lighting up with cute little texts from Louis. They always said something like ‘sisters are driving me insane, wish you were here xxxx’ or ‘whenever I see something green around the holidays I think of your beautiful eyes xxx’ or something romantic and lovely like that.

 

Harry is so glad his heart choseto fall in love withLouis.

 

On December 24th, AKA Louis’ birthday/Christmas Eve, Harry wakes up to yet another cute little Louis-text.

 

From Louis:

Morning Hazza (: can’t wait for you to come over today xx

 

Harry smiles and texts back,

 

To Louis:

Good morning Lou. I can’t wait either, I’m really excited .xx

 

From Louis:

Miss you babycakes

 

Harry blushes and smiles harder at his phone. Louis has called him a wide assortment of nicknames, but that one is definitely new. After all, Harry would certainly remember if Louis had used something so cute and sweet before.

 

To Louis:

I miss you too sweetcheeks ;)

 

***

 

Deep breath. In, out.

 

Harry doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. He’s been to Louis’ house many times before.

 

Well, that was before Harry knew having mutual crushes on each other was a thing between Harry and Louis. Which is something Harry never thought he would be able to admit. But it's mutual, yeah, and they've discussed it. Harry's still stunned by that.

 

He takes another deep breath, trying to stay calm. As he stares at the oak front door of Louis’ house, bathed in the afternoon light of a cold december, Harry carefully sets down the multiple gift bags he juggled from his mum’s car to the front door of the house.

 

Harry turns and gives his mum a wave, who smiles back and backs out of the driveway.

 

So Harry turns back to the door and sighs, swallows and prepares himself to see Louis again. He smooths down his unruly curls and makes sure there are no stains or anything on his clothes.

 

And then his phone vibrates in his pocket.

 

From Louis:

When you get here you can just come in, it's a little insane right now (: can't wait to see you Hazza baby xxxx

 

Harry smiles, his heart fluttering when he reads the little pet name at the very end. Finally feeling ready, he combs through his hair with his fingers one last time before - feeling a little déjà vu - he opens the door to the Tomlinson house.

 

Well. Louis was right. This place is a mad house.

 

As Harry walks in the door, he can hear loud talking and laughter and food-preparation noises from down the hall. The air smells of homemade food, though there's so many different scents that Harry can't discern certain ones from the others.

 

Feeling a little overwhelmed, Harry carries inside the gifts he bought for the Tomlinson girls and kicks off his boots, then sets them next to the beat-up Toms he knows are Louis'. Louis has such cute feet. And his ankles too. Harry smiles to himself.

 

After Harry hangs up his jacket, he walks down the hallway and into the main area of the house.

 

Nobody notices him at first, and Harry takes the opportunity to look around and take in the surroundings.

 

Louis' mum is removing a pan covered with aluminum foil from the oven, batting Fizzy's hand away when she attempts to peek under the foil. Louis' mum then sets the pan on the table. An old guy, most likely Louis' grandpa, lifts the foil and looks underneath, and a lady who Harry guesses is Louis' grandma laughs and slaps his hand lightly.

 

In the living room, the four little Tomlinson girls sit around, munching on cookies and looking at...

 

Louis.

 

Louis, who looks absolutely beautiful.

 

He's sitting on the couch, braiding Lottie's hair as he seemingly tells a story to the girls. All four girls are enraptured in whatever Louis is saying, looking at him in the way Harry suspects he probably looks at Louis all the time. Louis is wearing a big read sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows so that he can braid Lottie's hair easier. His hair is fluffy and soft-looking, and on the bottom he's wearing a pair of tight, dark navy jeans.

 

Ugh. He looks so good. Harry feels his heart flutter against his ribs.

 

As Harry watches Louis and the girls, Louis seems to lower his voice suspensefully. The girls all subconsciously lean forward, looking engrossed, when Louis yells 'boo!'. The girls all squeal and giggle, and Louis smiles and looks proud of himself. Harry feels himself smile automatically.

 

"Harry! You're here!" Calls Louis' mum, making Harry jump and smile sheepishly.

 

"Hello," he greets, waving at her. "I've got some gifts for you guys."

 

"Oh, honey, you didn't have to," Louis' mum tuts, but Harry can see the endearment in her sparkling eyes.

 

"Gifts?" Daisy asks from the living room, looking like a dog who's just smelled a chicken cooking.

 

"Harry!" The girls call. And then Harry is getting attacked by four squealing little girls. Harry hugs them each and kisses their foreheads, telling them all merry Christmas.

 

"No, Fizzy, you have to wait until Christmas to open them," Harry tells Fizzy as she tries to peek inside of the gift bag Harry marked with her name.

 

Fizzy obeys and backs off, and all the little girls walk back to the living room to sit down.

 

"Hey, what about mine?" Louis' voice asks from somewhere to Harry's left. He turns and Louis is standing, smiling softly with his arms held out for a hug.

 

Harry's breath cuts off for a moment before he regains it, pulse beating in his fingertips as he envelops Louis in a hug. The smaller boy smells of lavender and cinnamon, two things that shouldn't go together but they do. Because it's Louis.

 

"Follow me over here," Louis whispers into Harry's shoulder as he hugs Harry. Once again, Harry's heartbeat falters for a moment.

 

Then Louis is leading Harry to the next room over, a cute little dining room with a simple, modern chandelier hanging above the wooden table. But before Harry gets a chance to take in any more of the room, he's being spun around and Louis’ face is inches from his own.

 

“Hi,” Louis whispers, smiling a little as he links his fingers behind Harry’s neck. By now Harry’s heartbeat is erratic against his ribcage. His breathing falters as he looks into Louis’ glinting blue eyes, which look a little more green in the low light of the unlit room.

 

“Hi,” Harry whispers back. His lips turn up in a small smile. “I missed you.”

 

“I missed you too, Hazza,” Louis admits. “So much.”

 

His soft tone and warm eyes make Harry melt a little. “Does your mum know about us?”

 

“Yeah,” Louis sighs. “She’s fine with it, though. Me being gay, I mean. And she likes you a lot. The girls told her about us as soon as she walked through the door, and then when grandma and grandpa got here mum told them right away.”

 

Harry frowns. “How did they react?” If they were anything other than proud of their amazing grandson, Harry will kill them. He doesn’t care if they’re old people. Louis doesn’t deserve people being mean to him.

 

“They were fine with it,” Louis assures. Harry internally breathes a sigh of relief.

 

“Good, because if they didn’t I would’ve-”

 

Louis giggles, cutting Harry off. “Just shut up and kiss me, flower boy.”

 

That shuts Harry up well. Before he even comprehends it, Louis is kissing him. It’s sweet and slow and everything Harry’s ever wanted, and he’s losing himself in the feeling of Louis’ lips against his own. It feels almost like the world around them is gone, disappeared to smoke, no more but a memory now that he’s here, being kissed by Louis and bringing his arms behind Louis’ back to hold him close.

 

 _Holy shit_ , Harry thinks as his heart rate goes into Louis-mode. _I’m so fucking in love_.

  
And for once, that thought isn’t so terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go. Don't worry, the rest of the Christmas Eve/Louis' birthday celebration thingy will be written about, but I decided to leave that until next chapter because it'll be pretty long. Tell me what you thought about this chapter in the comments and hopefully I won't take too long of a time to write the next chapter, ha. Love you guys x1,000 <3 xx


	13. Chapter 13

Louis keeps his and Harry’s kiss short, which Harry doesn’t like at all. After all, now that he can, he wouldn’t mind kissing Louis 24/7. He would literally never get tired of it. Naturally, Harry makes a disgruntled noise and attempts to kiss Louis again. Louis giggles and pushes Harry away, his eyes crinkling up adorably.

 

“Hazza, we’re in the room next to my grandparents,” Louis tuts. Softly, he strokes his fingertips down Harry’s face. Harry has yet to let go of Louis, because he doesn’t think he can stand one second without physical contact with this boy.

 

“Just one more?” Harry begs. He pulls the pouty face that always gets people to do things for him, making his eyes big and innocent.

 

Louis rolls his eyes, but there’s a little trace of endearment sparkling in them. “Ugh, you’re cute. Fine, one more.”

 

Heart fluttering from hearing Louis utter these words, Harry smiles as Louis pecks his lips softly. Harry then turns, preparing to walk back into the chaos of the kitchen, but Louis makes a discontented grunt and grabs Harry again. Before Harry really comprehends it, Louis is clinging to him, pressed up against Harry’s back and squeezing around Harry’s belly.

 

“Louis - what are you -” Harry grumbles, feeling his nerves go into overdrive where Louis is plastered against his back.

 

“I just really like this jumper on you,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s back. Harry feels Louis rub his cheek against the knitted fabric of his lavender jumper. “You look all cuddly and adorable, it makes me wanna hug you.”

 

Harry blushes and smiles, his heartbeat stuttering in his chest. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to being complemented by Louis, it’s just too incredible. It’s something Harry never would’ve dreamed of hearing, let alone hearing it multiple times a day.

 

Feeling giggly and happy, his normal emotion around Louis, Harry waddles into the kitchen with Louis still clinging to him. When the adults in the room look over at the two boys, Louis finally lets go, Harry’s back feeling cold and bare afterward even though he’s wearing a warm jumper.

 

After a few minutes of playing around with the girls, everyone is called into the kitchen for dinner. Louis has yet to keep his hands off of Harry (it’s even worse now than it was before), so as Harry shuffles into the kitchen, Louis is gripping the hem of his jumper.

 

Not really sure if he should be staying or going, Harry stands awkwardly by the table as everyone takes a seat. Eventually, when everybody except Harry is seated, most of the family (disregarding Daisy and Phoebe, who are arguing over god-knows-what) turns their eyes on the embarrassed figure of Harry. He blushes under the attention.

 

“Um, should I…?” Harry asks awkwardly. He points to the area where the door is to convey what he’s trying to ask. “I mean, I don’t wanna interrupt -”

 

 “Nonsense,” Louis’ mum tuts, waving away Harry’s proposal with a flick of her hand. “I wouldn't kick my son’s boyfriend out on his birthday. Louis would kill me.”

 

Harry’s face goes a most likely unflattering shade of red. _Boyfriend_. Oh God.

 

The thing is, Harry and Louis haven’t yet talked about what exactly they are. After all, Harry doesn’t want to force Louis into a relationship, because from what Harry can tell from Louis’ letters, he’s pretty terrified about his newly discovered sexuality. But, fuck, Harry really wants Louis to be his official boyfriend. How could he not?

 

Glancing over at the pretty boy, Harry sees Louis blushing profusely and looking right at his mum, obviously avoiding eye contact with Harry.

 

Which. Okay. It’s Louis’ choice if he doesn’t want Harry to be his boyfriend. Harry shouldn’t be hurt, and he’s not.

 

But, okay, he is a little disappointed as he sits down next to Louis to eat.

 

Dinner is great. Louis’ mum made lasagna with a side of cooked vegetables, and it’s the best thing Harry’s eaten in a while. He practically inhales his food, getting both peculiar and charmed looks from Louis, who's sitting on his right side. They don’t talk as they eat, especially about the whole 'boyfriend' thing. The only sound in the room is the clinking of silverware on the dishes for a good ten minutes.

 

After two servings of lasagna Harry feels as if he’ll explode if he eats any more. He’s full and content and suddenly sleepy. Food will do that to you.

 

Harry drops his arms to his sides, slumping a little in his chair and placing one hand on his full belly. He feels something brush against the fingers of his other hand, and looks down to see Louis’ knuckles brushing very deliberately against his own. Oh, thank god. So Louis doesn't hate Harry now.

 

Smiling softly, Harry looks up at Louis, who’s engaged in a banter with his grandpa about something which Harry isn’t paying attention to. Harry watches Louis’ face as he slides his palm against Louis’, intertwining their fingers.

 

Louis’ reaction is priceless and adorable. He smiles, at first subtly but then he’s full on grinning, having to break off mid-sentence with an apology because he’s smiling too hard. Without looking at Harry, Louis squeezes his hand underneath the table and regains his composure before continuing his conversation with his grandfather.

 

Ouch. Louis’ cuteness makes Harry’s heart hurt.

 

It occurs to Harry how small and delicate Louis' hand is. His fingers are slim and warm, and they fit perfectly with Harry's long, bony fingers. Cheesy as it sounds, it's almost like somebody created their hands just so that they could fit together. Like a lock and a key, or two puzzle pieces, or those Russian dolls that fit, one inside of the other. Louis' hand in Harry's. Like someone created their hands knowing that one day, one boy's hand would hold the other's.

 

Alright, Harry feels sufficiently creepy.

 

For a while Harry just sits there, holding hands with Louis and silently listening to the various conversations around the table. Eventually the girls get restless, and they all turn to Harry.

 

“Can we open your gifts?” Daisy asks from Harry's left. The other three girls all look at Harry, sparkling eyes boring into Harry’s soul. Ugh. He’s never been able to say no, anyway. Especially not to charming little girls.

 

“I don’t see why not…”

 

Harry watches as the girls’ faces light up, and they all turn to their mum.

 

“Mum, Harry said we can open the gifts he got us,” Lottie announces. Harry winces, thinking that he probably shouldn’t have said yes. Louis’ mum, however, just shrugs and smiles.

 

“If that’s okay with Harry, it’s okay with me,” she says. She looks up from the girls and winks at Harry. Harry’s glad that Jay likes him so much.

 

Sadly, Harry has to pull his hand out of Louis’ grasp when the girls tell him to follow them. That gets a questioning look from Louis, but Harry doesn’t even have to explain before Louis' understanding the situation and following the girls as well. So Harry drags his sleepy self off of his chair and follows the four little balls of energy to the living room, where the girls are already pulling out the gifts Harry got them from under a cute, nice-smelling Christmas tree. Harry smiles, remembering when he got this excited about Christmas gifts as a little kid.

 

Louis is sitting on the floor, watching as the girls sort out their separate presents, identical excited expressions on all of their faces. He looks a little sleepy, his pretty blue eyes softer than normal. Harry has the undying urge to cuddle him, though their whole 'it's mutual' thing is so new that Harry still feels a little odd initiating physical contact.

 

“Can we?” Fizzy asks, questioning about the gift in front of her. Smiling, Harry nods, sitting on the floor next to Louis. So the girls all rip open their gifts.

 

Daisy squeals and shoves a flower crown made of - you got it - daisies over her messy hair. Lottie gasps and smiles big when she unwraps one of those cheap makeup kits which are made for little girls who are really too young to be wearing makeup.

 

“So you don’t have to use your mum’s,” Harry explains. He silently send a 'you're welcome' to Jay from the next room over.

 

Fizzy giggles as she holds up a mug with the words “Miss Fancy Pants” painted on it for Louis to see. After all, Harry had seen it at the store and immediately thought of Felicite. Louis laughs and slaps Harry’s arm, smiling at him, and Phoebe hugs a giant teddy bear which is at least as tall as her.

 

There’s a chorus of ‘thank you Harry’s followed by hugs and cheek kisses, to which Harry smiles and tells the girls ‘you’re welcome’. Then the girls all gather around, Phoebe plopping herself right in Harry’s lap.

 

“Harry, are you staying over?” Daisy asks. It takes a moment for Harry to comprehend this, but when he does his body goes numb for a moment. Staying over. Harry isn’t, but, well. Just the thought of sleeping in the same house as Louis is enough to put Harry into cardiac arrest.

 

Louis, however, doesn’t seem to think there’s a thing wrong with this idea. “You should, Harry my boy.”

 

Harry ignores the butterflies those last words produce and shakes his head. First of all, he doesn’t want to leave his mum alone on Christmas. Second of all, it’s _Christmas_  for Christ’s sake. Harry would feel like an intruder. Third of all, if Harry were to stay the night, he would probably come untouched just from sleeping within 20 feet of Louis Tomlinson.

 

“No, I don’t want to leave mum alone on Christmas,” Harry answers simply. He’s pretty sure his voice shakes a bit, but if so everyone just ignores it.

 

Louis pouts. “What about tomorrow?”

 

“Louis, tomorrow is Christmas,” Harry laughs. He makes a disgruntled face at Phoebe when she pokes his dimple, which makes all the little girls laugh.

 

“But it’ll be at _night_ ,” Louis says. It sounds like he thinks he’s convincing Harry, and he kind of is. Not because he has a good point, but because Louis is cute and Harry loves him a lot.

 

“Harry, is it just you and your mum at home?” the sound of Louis’ mum’s voice suddenly asks. Harry turns to her, a little confused by the question.

 

“Well, I have a sister too, but she’s at uni,” Harry answers.

 

“Oh. Don’t feel obligated or anything, but if you and your mum would like, you two could come over for dinner tomorrow,” she offers. This confuses Harry a lot. Louis’ mum just invited Harry’s family to Christmas dinner. Isn’t that usually just a thing for really close family and spouses? But, oh yeah, Jay thinks that Harry is Louis’ boyfriend. They’ll probably have to clear that up. But then Jay is continuing, “And then, because Louis is oh-so insistent, you could stay over if you’d like.”

 

Okay. Harry’s still trying to get over the fact that Louis’ mum - _Louis Tomlinson’s_ _mum_  - just invited Harry and Anne to Christmas dinner. Christmas. Dinner. Who does that? Only the Tomlinson family, Harry supposes.

 

But still… Harry thinks his mum could use a new friend, and a busy Christmas - something Harry never gets to experience with nobody under 16 living in his house - does seem like fun.

 

“I’ll ask mum about it,” he decides on.

 

“Okay, sweetie. Like I said, don’t feel obligated,” Louis’ mum answers, smiling at Harry and walking away.

 

“Yayyy!” exclaims Phoebe, who has remained in Harry’s lap throughout this conversation. Harry ruffles her already-messy hair and she giggles. It’s absolutely precious, making Harry smile. It's quite a good feeling to have a little kid like you. Almost like being an animal's favorite person. It makes Harry feel important.

 

Not wanting to overstay his welcome, Harry checks his phone for the time. It’s currently 7:15. Which, with it being Christmas Eve and all, means that Harry should probably be heading home soon.

 

“Should I tell mum to come pick me up?” Harry asks Louis, who is smiling sleepily as Fizzy tells him a rambling story about starfish.

 

“Hmm?” Louis hums. He turns to Harry, and Harry feel his heart swell with affection at the small, sleepy, cuddly-looking boy.

 

“I, um. Home? Now?” Harry stutters out. His mind is a little fogged by the way Louis covers his mouth as he yawns, looking like a sleepy lion as the crinkles near his eyes make an appearance. Louis seems to take a few seconds to analyze Harry’s confusing question, but when he does he pouts.

 

“Mmm… I guess…” Louis grumbles.

 

So Harry texts his mum (come pick me up please .xx) and talks to Louis and the girls as he waits for an answer. As Harry tells a story about going to the zoo when he was little, Louis starts stroking along the back of his hand, which Harry is using to hold himself up as Phoebe sits in his lap. It sends chills throughout Harry’s body.

 

Finally his phone lights up with a text from his mum.

 

From Mum <3:

Sorry Harry, I’ve got some friends over and I think I drank a few too many glasses of wine. Okay if I pick you up at 8:30? Tell Jay that I’m sorry .xx

 

Harry shows the text to Louis, who squints at the bright screen illuminated in the dimly lit room. After reading it, he looks at Harry and shrugs.

 

“Mum’s not gonna mind-”

 

He’s cut off mid sentence as Louis’ mum yells from the kitchen, “Oh my god, Louis, come here!”

 

She sounds panicked and desperate, and Louis’ pretty blue eyes widen as he stands up quickly and runs into the other room. Harry’s heart goes into overdrive, and he’s about to panic and call 911 when he hears Louis groan.

 

“Mum, I told you-”

 

“Nonsense,” Harry hears Jay say. “It’s your birthday.”

 

Harry lifts Phoebe off of his lap and stands. He walks into the kitchen to see Louis’ mum with a cake, lit by what Harry guesses are 18 candles. Louis looks like he’s trying to be indignant and failing, as a grin slowly spreads across his face. He looks so beautiful.

 

“Thanks, mum,” Louis begrudgingly says, giving his mum an awkward side hug so as not to crush the beautiful chocolate-frosted cake she’s holding.

 

Everyone crowds into the kitchen and sings ‘Happy Birthday’ to Louis, who looks embarrassed and awkward. After Louis blows out the candles, Jay cuts everyone a slice of cake and hands it out. The actual cake is chocolate as well, which Harry assumes is Louis' preference. Harry asks for a small slice, still full from dinner, while Louis looks ready to devour the huge piece he receives.

 

Louis and Harry sit next to each other on the couch in the living room to eat while everyone else sits in the kitchen. Finally Harry gets some almost-alone-time with Louis, and he takes the chance to drop a kiss to the top of Louis’ head as the boy eats his food.

 

“How does it feel to be eighteen?” Harry asks. He sets aside his empty plate and looks over at Louis.

 

“I feel-” Louis starts, the words muffled by his mouthful. He swallows before trying again,  “I feel so mature. I’m a mature adult.” He puts his hands on his hips and attempts to look important and mature, but he just ends up looking cute (like always).

 

Harry giggles. “A mature adult that’s five foot seven.”

 

Louis mock gasps. “Harold! I am five nine, thank you very much.”

 

Aw. Louis thinks he’s five nine. Harry giggles again and decides not to comment on that, in fear of getting pummeled by a tiny boy in a too-big sweater. Instead, he says, “I feel so young now. You’re a mature adult and I’m a little boy.”

 

He had intended it as a joke. Louis smiles at first through a mouthful of cake, but then his face is turning pale. It seems that he tries to take a breath, but he chokes and starts coughing.

 

“You okay?” Harry asks. Louis coughs a few times and then regains himself, turning to Harry with wide eyes.

 

“He’s older than me,” Louis states, and it sounds disbelieving.

 

“What?” Harry asks. Who is Louis talking about?

 

“That’s what you said,” Louis says. Okay, now Harry is even more confused. Louis continues, “When I asked about who you like, remember? You said he’s older than you, and I thought you were talking about Grimshaw.”

 

Oh yeah. “Oh. Um, now you know I wasn’t,” Harry answers lamely. He gives a sheepish smile and gathers the ends of his sleeves in his hands like little paws.

 

Louis smiles, and it’s adorable. The older boy drags his finger through the frosting on top of the cake and, before Harry can duck away, wipes it on Harry’s nose.

 

“Louis, you… um… indecent person!” Harry exclaims. He doesn’t want to swear while there are little kids and Louis’ relatives in the next room over. Wanting revenge, Harry gathers some of the frosting from Louis’ cake and smears it on Louis’ cheek, smiling smugly afterward.

 

Louis gasps. He grabs his fork and shoves a bit of cake into his mouth before smashing the rest onto Harry’s cheek. It feels gross and Harry squeals, wiping it off with the back of his hand and then licking it because, well, it’s cake. And Harry’s disgusting. You can stop judging now.

 

The blue-eyed boy looks smug, smirking as if he’s won the battle, which he technically has. Harry pouts.

 

“Aw, don’t do that,” Louis coos. He scampers off into the kitchen and comes back a moment later with a paper towel in hand. Harry scrunches his face up as Louis wipes the remains of the chocolate cake off of his face.

 

“All good now,” Louis smiles, patting Harry on the arm and walking back to the kitchen to throw the paper towel away. When he comes back Harry realizes that he still has frosting smeared on his cheek.

 

“You’ve still got some frosting right there,” Harry tells Louis. Trying to be helpful, he points to Louis’ cheek.

 

“Shame,” the smaller boy shrugs. “I just threw away that paper towel.” He’s looking at Harry as if he expects something, and Harry’s not quite sure what to do. Hoping that it’s the right thing in this situation, Harry licks his finger and rubs the frosting off of Louis’ cheek. Something that his mum used to do when Harry was little. And, all right, she still has to sometimes.

 

Louis flashes Harry a glinting white smile in return. There’s soft clinking of silverware and the flow of multiple conversations from the other room, and Harry feels happy and sleepy sitting on the couch next to Louis. For the first time in a while it actually feels like Christmas to Harry, that whole feeling of being warm and comfy and spending time with people you love. It even smells like Christmas. It’s that subtle smell of evergreen and cinnamon that reminds Harry of Christmas morning as a child.

 

“Is it a good or a bad time?” Louis asks. Only then does Harry realize he’s been staring. Whatever.

 

“For what?” Harry asks, a few beats too late.

 

“For me to kiss you,” Louis whispers. He looks tiny and sheepish, blush tinting his cheeks a light pink, similarly colored lips turning up in a tiny, embarrassed smile. Harry’s heart flutters. Somewhat of a vibration - for no better way to explain it - is sent through his body, from his quickly pulsing heart down to the tips of his rather cold toes. Well, they were cold before. Now every part of Harry feels warm.

 

“A good time,” Harry whispers. Honestly, he would’ve said that even if both boys were drowning in the ocean. It’s always a good time to kiss Louis.

 

And before Harry gets a chance to catch up with his sluggish brain, that’s what he’s doing. He’s kissing Louis and it feels amazing, like shockwaves being sent throughout his body, pulse beating everywhere but where it’s needed most. The kiss is long and drawn out, a sluggish caress of Louis' lips against Harry’s own. Harry’s body goes numb when he feels Louis slide an arm around his lower back, pulling him in a little closer with his intimate grasp that leaves Harry breathless.

 

It feels hesitant when Louis licks over the seam of Harry’s lips, a silent question that Harry’s not sure how to answer. On one hand, Louis’ family is right in the next room over. On the other hand, this is _Louis_. And Harry _loves_ Louis. So, naturally, he parts his lips and slides his tongue against Louis’ own.

 

Louis tastes like chocolate and sweetness. It's something Harry savors, licking into Louis' mouth to try and claim some of that taste himself. He slides his tongue against the back of Louis' teeth, where some of the sweet taste lingers. It's taking all of Harry's willpower not to make some sort of noise to show Louis how much he loves this.

 

After only a few kisses like that Louis is pulling away, leaving Harry breathless and tingling in Louis' arms. Harry’s a little confused. Or disappointed, more like.

 

“Why’d you stop?” he whispers. There’s not really a reason for his whispering, it just feels as if it’s the right thing to do right now.

 

As an answer, Louis blushes and grabs Harry’s hand. At first Harry is confused as to why, but then Louis is lightly skimming Harry’s fingers over the front of his jeans, where Harry can feel…

 

Oh.

 

Okay.

 

So Louis is a little bit hard. At least now Harry knows that it doesn’t take much at all to get this boy going.

 

“Oh,” Harry breathes out. Louis nods sheepishly, hiding behind a curtain of his fluffy fringe and not meeting Harry’s eyes. It’s kind of adorable and kind of hot, and Harry’s teenage-boy hormones aren’t sure which direction to turn.

 

“Oh yeah,” Louis suddenly says, tightening his arm that’s still slung around Harry’s lower back and meeting his green eyes with large, sparkling blue ones, “I have a Christmas present for you!”

 

Harry groans. “Now you’re making me feel even worse about not getting you anything.”

 

“Shut up,” Louis snaps. He lets Harry go and stands up, immediately grabbing Harry’s jumper sleeve and dragging him up the stairs to Louis’ room. “Just a sec, let me find it..”

 

Louis lifts some of the piles scattered throughout his horrifyingly messy bedroom before finally finding what he’s looking for. It’s a terribly wrapped, rectangular gift with a bow slapped on the top of it. Louis hands it to Harry, seeming hesitant and nervous, almost.

 

“You have to wait until tomorrow to open it, though,” Louis warns.

 

“Okay,” Harry answers, heart thrumming with anticipation at what Louis could’ve gotten him. Then again, if Louis is anything like Niall when it comes to Christmas, Harry might as well throw this away right now.

 

Nah. Harry would keep anything Louis gave him, even if it was a used toothpick.

 

Is that creepy?

 

Well, when Louis steps forward and kisses him, smile evident on his lips, Harry sure doesn’t feel creepy.

 

***

 

The next morning Harry has waffles for breakfast with his mum, snow drifting past the window and the realization that it’s Christmas putting Harry in a good mood. After breakfast Harry asks his mum about dinner at the Tomlinson’s, to which she says ‘sure’. Harry can see her smirking, but he doesn't care. Because he's going to Louis' house for Christmas. Which is something kind of official. And Harry's staying the night. Harry’s heart does a little jump with nerves and excitement.

 

When he goes back upstairs he texts Louis.

 

To Louis:

Guess who’s going over to Louis’ house for Christmas dinner? xx

 

It’s thirty minutes or so (which Harry uses to get dressed and tame his curls) until Louis answers.

 

From Louis:

David Beckham ? xx

 

To Louis:

I hate you. It’s me .xx

 

From Louis:

Even better <3 xxxx

 

Harry definitely doesn’t smile at that. Nope. Not at all.

 

From Louis:

Have you opened my gift yet ? xx

 

Oh shit, yeah, Harry forgot about that.

 

To Louis:

Going to open it right now. If it’s something gross I’ll kill you .xx

 

Harry puts down his phone and grabs Louis’ present off of his bedside table, his hands shaking a little with anticipation. His numb fingers slowly rip open the paper on the top of a gift, to reveal a little note.

 

 _Harry_ , it says in that familiar handwriting, _I didn’t know what to get you for Christmas, so I decided to give you something from the heart. These are all the letters I was too chicken to put in your locker. Some of them make me nervous, because I don’t want to scare you away now that I can finally kiss you and stuff, but I’m gonna have to tell you these things at some point. I thought it might as well be now, but I’m sorry if you think it’s too early. Just know that you don’t have to return any of the things I’ve written in some of these letters. Hugs and kisses, Lou <3_

The note makes Harry anxious and nervous. _You don’t have to return any of the things I’ve written_? Oh god. Harry’s heart is pounding against his chest.

 

Harry tears open the rest of the wrapping paper to find seven notes, all written in Louis’ messy handwriting. With pulsing, trembling fingers, Harry lifts the first one.

 

_Harry Fucking Styles. I was wanking last night and you kept popping into my head. I couldn’t help it. I wanked thinking about you. Please don’t hate me. Yours, A super creepy Secret Admirer._

 

Well. That one’s not too bad. It’s even a little hot. Harry lifts the next note.

 

_Hello once again. Did you know that the first time we touched (I was taking something from your hands and our fingers touched) I felt like I was going to faint? I legitimately felt like my whole body caught on fire. It’s like, before we touched the world was black and white, but then your fingers brushed mine and then everything was colorful. Sorry. I’m a cheesy fuck. Yours, A Secret Admirer._

The notes go on like that, four more letters that say things like _before I met you I didn’t know the term ‘my dick twitched’ was a real thing_  and _YOU’RE SO PRETTY JUST FUCK ME ALREADY_  and _oh my god I have such a huge crush on you I blush every time you look at me oh my god help_. As Harry lifts the final note, it’s easy to say that his entire body is thrumming with love for Louis.

 

This note is the longest one Harry’s ever received from anyone.

 

_Can I just get something off of my chest? I’ve never told anyone this, but I’ve always wanted to be in a long-lasting relationship. I wanna get married someday to somebody I love a lot. And honestly, I’ve never really imagined being in a relationship with a specific person, but. Well. I keep imagining what it’s like to be in a relationship with you. I keep wondering what it’s like to be able to say, ‘you see that curly haired angel over there? That’s Harry. He’s my boyfriend’. I keep wishing that I could say things like ‘Harry is mine’. One day I almost called you ‘my beautiful baby boy’, because you were all sleepy and adorable, but I stopped myself just in time. It’s beginning to be a problem, this extreme want for you to be mine and only mine, because every time anyone touches you I just want to punch them and yell ‘get away from my baby’. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. Yours, A Secret Admirer that really, really, really likes you. Almost too much._

 

No. Yes. What?

 

Harry’s body is numb. He can’t think straight. His entire mind has burnt out and will no longer function.

 

Louis Tomlinson. Louis. Fucking. Tomlinson. Wants Harry to be his boyfriend.

  
What the fuck.

 

Harry realizes something else has been written on the back of the piece of paper. Slowly, hand trembling and heart pounding, Harry turns over the letter and reads:

 

_Harry. I wrote this letter a while ago, but this little part right here is something I wrote on my birthday before you got here. A few days ago my mum asked if you were my boyfriend, and I couldn't help it. I took the opportunity I've wanted since you walked into my life. I said yes. If she calls you my boyfriend at all today (or technically yesterday, since you're reading this on Christmas) it's my fault. I'm sorry if you don't want a relationship with me, and I totally understand. Don't feel like you need to say yes just because I want you to, but... I was too shy to ask this in person. Will you be my boyfriend? Once again, you don't have to say yes. Just, consider it? Louis <3_

 

Harry's heart spasms in his chest. His mind is reeling and he can barely think enough to breathe. Which. Harry isn't breathing right now. His whole body feels light and warm and his lungs have shriveled. Before he can think, before he can speak, before he can do anything but move his hands, Harry grabs his phone.

 

To Louis:

Yes. One thousand times yes. xxxx


	14. Chapter 14

Harry’s palms are sweaty. Knees weak, arms are heavy. There’s vomit on his sweater already. Mom’s spaghetti. He’s nervous.

 

Well, okay, the vomit part was a lie. But as Harry stares at the door to Louis’ house, he feels like the spirit of Eminem has been ignited inside of him.

 

He’s never been this nervous to see Louis before. I mean, he’s always a little nervous to see Louis, but this heart-racing skull-pounding stomach-turning nervousness is something Harry has never experienced in his life.

 

Louis never answered his text. It says that he read it, but Harry has yet to receive an answer. The thought makes him a little anxious and more than a little scared. After all, why wouldn’t Louis answer him? Was the letter some sort of joke? Has he changed his mind about his feelings for Harry?

 

“Oh, for goodness sake, just ring the doorbell,” Anne sighs impatiently, standing behind Harry with a bowl of salad and a few bottles of wine.

 

“I’m nervous,” Harry admits.

 

“Harry, he wouldn’t have asked you to be his boyfriend if he didn’t want you to be,” Harry’s mum reasons. She gives him a warm, almost pitiful look. “Now, knock on the door or I’ll tell Louis about every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done.”

 

Harry rolls his eyes, secretly thankful for his mother being so sure of this. He reaches out and knocks on the door three times before clasping his hands together and picking at his nails anxiously.

 

The door is thrown open by no other than Louis himself.

 

But wait.

 

Louis is wearing… glasses.

 

“Hello, Mrs. Styles,” Louis says, addressing Harry’s mum before even looking at Harry. Okay. That’s not helping Harry’s current anxiety level.

 

“Hello, Louis,” Anne greets. “And, it’s actually Ms. Cox.”

 

Louis’ cheeks go red behind his newly introduced glasses, something that Harry doesn’t get to witness often. “Oh, my bad. I’m so sorry.”

 

“No, you’re fine, honey. Don’t worry about it,” Harry’s mum smiles.

 

“Right. Um, come in,” Louis steps aside, allowing Harry’s mum to enter the house. She thanks him and takes off her shoes before venturing further into the Tomlinson house.

 

“Uh. Hi,” Louis greets when Anne is out of earshot. He turns to Harry and he’s blushing once again, that pretty pink tint to his cheeks that makes Harry want to plant kisses all over Louis’ face.

 

“You have glasses,” Harry notes. The air is awkward around them and it makes Harry a little annoyed. Not at Louis, never at Louis, and not at himself either. He’s just annoyed at the awkwardness for existing.

 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Louis agrees. He pushes them further up his nose and continues, “I didn’t have any contacts left, so. I had to wear these.” He just looks so cute in his glasses, so tiny and adorable, Harry wants to smother him in love and kisses.

 

Harry nods. They just stare at each other for a moment before Louis just starts giggling. He just. Like. Giggles. And it’s a little bubbly laugh that Harry’s never heard before, something that makes Harry feel like the sun is rising all around him and nobody will ever be sad again. It’s beautiful. Harry could listen to it on repeat for years.

 

“God, I am being such an idiot right now,” Louis giggles, mostly to himself. He shakes his head, smile lighting up his face, and steps outside. He closes the door.

 

“So,” Louis says. He looks down at his toes as he speaks. “I really don’t know how to word the question, but like. We’re not really in any sort of commitment right now. And you know the letter from my Christmas gift thing. So, can I just hear your answer, right now, so I can be sure?”

 

Harry knows what Louis is asking, despite the confusing way he worded it. Still, for some reason, he asks, “The answer to what?”

 

Louis sighs, looking Harry in the eyes. “Harry. I want you to be my boyfriend. Is that what you want?”

 

It’s so much different hearing it in real life. Reading it in letter form was like, okay, cool, sounds fun. But in person? Way different. In person, Harry can watch Louis’ pretty lips form the words as he conveys his question to Harry. In person, he can see the way Louis’ expression changes, from anxious to scared to confident and back again. In person, the question is so real. So… there. And yet, Harry’s answer doesn’t change. If anything, he’s even more sure.

 

“Yes, Louis,” Harry answers. He watches as Louis’ face softens, the way he smiles and his eyes crinkle, somewhat of a disbelieving air about him. And before Harry knows what he’s saying, more words are spilling out of his mouth. “I can’t believe you actually want to be my boyfriend. I mean, you’re… amazing.”

 

Louis gapes, blush still evident on his cheeks. “Harry Styles. Look at you. You’re beautiful. You’ve got the curly hair, and the perfect face, and those gorgeous green eyes. You look like an angel, Hazza.”

 

Harry can feel himself blushing now. “Well, you’re like, really hot.”

 

Okay. Louis is amazing at compliments, and Harry is not. Honestly, he didn’t even mean for that to come out of his mouth. Louis doesn’t need to know how many times Harry has imagined him naked.

 

The smaller boy, however, freezes when Harry says this. For a few seconds he just stares at Harry with those sparkling blue eyes, hidden behind the lenses of his glasses. “You… you think I’m hot?”

 

“Of course I do,” Harry whispers, looking down at his pigeon-toed feet. This is embarrassing as hell.

 

“I think you’re hot too,” Louis mumbles. Now it’s Harry’s turn to freeze. He’s never been told that he’s hot before. Attractive? Yes. ‘You have nice hair’? Yes. Hot? Never. Well, not until now, at least.

 

“You - you do?” Harry asks, peeking at Louis from under his curls.

 

“Of course I do, baby,” Louis answers. Harry’s never heard Louis call him ‘baby’ in real life. It feels like his body is numb. “I think about you all the time, Hazza. I’ve always wanted to get you naked. Not even in a sexual way, though. Like, I just want to be able to admire you, with your little tummy and your long legs and your perky nipples. You’re just so beautiful.”

 

Harry’s cheeks are a whole new shade of red now. He can’t take all these compliments. In a flirtatious way, Harry says, “Louis, stop it.”

 

“Getting you naked would be like a gift from God himself,” Louis continues. He’s smiling at Harry, soft look on his face that makes Harry melt. “Aw, you’re blushing. Am I making you uncomfortable? I’m sorry.”

 

Now Louis is blushing as well. Harry answers, “You’re not making me uncomfortable, Lou. I just don’t know how to take compliments is all.”

 

“Well, you better learn how, now that you’re my boyfriend,” Louis states. Harry wants to scream with joy at hearing these words out of Louis’ mouth. _Boyfriend_. Harry is so in love.

 

For the first time, Harry steps toward Louis and hesitantly kisses his lips. He’s never initiated a kiss between them before, but it feels just as good as the rest of their kisses, so Harry can’t be doing it too wrong.

 

They share a few short, chaste kisses before it really sinks in. Harry is Louis’ boyfriend. Louis is Harry’s boyfriend. They’re boyfriends. It’s… amazing? No. It’s more than amazing. It’s… wow. There’s literally no word to explain it. It's that great.

 

Harry has to stop kissing Louis, because he’s smiling too hard. His face hurts, almost, but he wouldn’t change a thing right now. Because Louis is Harry’s boyfriend.

 

Louis giggles at Harry, probably because Harry is such an idiot. The whole world feels light and happy, like sunshine and rainbows and ducklings and all things wonderful. And then, as Harry looks down at his feet in embarrassment, he feels Louis press a little kiss to his left cheek. And then his right cheek, and then his forehead.

 

“Lou, stop it,” Harry giggles. Louis hums out a tiny giggle and kisses from Harry’s forehead down to the tip of his nose, finally pecking his lips with his own soft, smiling ones. The frames of his glasses press up against Harry's face and he loves it, loves it so much. Louis does that again. And again, putting his hands on Harry’s cheeks to kiss him better.

 

“Louuuu,” Harry slurs against Louis’ lips. Finally Louis relents after one last peck to Harry’s lips, stepping back and allowing Harry to admire him. Louis looks pretty, so pretty, with his soft hair and the glasses perched on his nose. Pink, kissable lips turned up in a small smile, one that’s only meant for Harry.

 

“C’mon, Flower Boy, let’s go inside,” Louis proposes. He opens the door to the house for Harry, motioning for Harry to walk inside.

 

“What a gentleman,” Harry teases. He feels Louis’ hand collide with his trouser-clad bum in retaliation.

 

Well. Louis has slapped Harry’s bum a few times before, but. I mean. That was before Harry wearing girl’s pants became a thing.

 

So, maybe wearing the lacy pants that Niall bought him has become a habit for Harry. It’s not his fault, really. They make him feel confident, almost sexy. Harry has formed a habit of matching them with whatever color of flowers he’s wearing that day. For example, today Harry tucked a red rose behind his ear, so he’s wearing - you guessed it - a red lacy thong with a bow on the front.

 

And when Louis pats Harry’s bum through his trousers, it feels so much different - and more hot - than ever before. Amazing what girl’s panties can do for you.

 

When Harry walks into the kitchen he immediately finds the expectant gaze of his mother, asking a silent question. Harry smiles and nods. Anne winks back at him as Louis comes up and rests his head on Harry’s shoulder for a moment.

 

Harry feels like a king.

 

***

 

Christmas goes nothing short of chaotic. Not in a bad way, though. It’s noisy and busy and there are too many smells at once, but Harry can’t say he’d have it any other way.

 

Louis seems to be trying his hardest to make the best impression possible on Harry’s mum. It’s hard for Harry to hide a smile when he realizes this, because Louis really wants Anne to like him. Like, _really_ wants her to. He asks her if she needs anything quite a bit more than necessary, asks her questions about her life and laughs and smiles politely at all the right times. He even acts surprised when she tells him her age, telling her that she looks so much younger.

 

It's adorable.

 

After dinner Harry helps Jay with the dishes while Louis keeps the hyperactive girls under control. Once Harry is finished cleaning up (which seemed to make Jay adore him even more), he walks into the living room where Louis is.

 

Louis immediately bounds up to Harry and hides behind him.

 

“Hazza, help, they’re going to eat me!” Louis squeals in mock-horror. The little girls chase after him and latch onto Louis’ legs, giggling their heads off and squealing as Louis playfully kicks his feet out. Harry and Louis both know that Louis would never hurt his sisters.

 

Louis pretends to be conquered by the girls, falling to his knees dramatically before lying down on his back in ‘defeat’. The girls cheer and high-five each other as Louis smiles.

 

Harry’s heart might explode. That was the cutest thing he has ever seen in his life. He is so, so fucking in love. It almost hurts.

 

Daisy places her hands on her hips and rests one foot on Louis' chest in a heroic pose. She looks so cute, Harry smiles fondly.

 

"I have beat him!" she announces victoriously. Louis latches onto her and sits up, Daisy squealing happily and struggling to get free of his strong grip. Phoebe runs up and latches herself onto Louis' back.

 

Harry knows it's time for him to come in. So he whisks Phoebe up off of Louis back, the girl giggling as Harry spins around a few times, holding Phoebe bridal-style in his arms.

 

It's Harry's turn to squeal (in a manly way, of course) as he trips, falling backward onto his bum. He has a moment of panic, squeezing Phoebe against his chest so that he doesn't drop her, before he feels his bum hit the ground with a loud thump.

 

Both Harry and Phoebe are still for a moment, in a slight state of shock, before Harry starts to giggle. His arse hurts, his heart is pounding against his chest, but, well. That was funny. Pretty soon Phoebe begins to giggle as well, looking up at Harry with sparkling eyes that look quite a bit like Louis'.

 

"Are you guys alright?" Louis asks from the other side of the room. He looks amused but a little nervous, probably for his little sister.

 

"Harry fell down," Phoebe states obviously, laughing louder.

 

"We're fine," Harry assures, ruffling Phoebe's hair and allowing her to finally escape his grasp.

 

Jay walks into the room just then, followed by Harry's own mum. "All of you, out, go use up your energy outside," she orders. "Louis, Harry, you too, go play in the snow."

 

So Harry and Louis round up the girls, bundling them all up in their coats and boots and hats before ushering them all outside.

 

It's really nice, cold but not windy. It's not snowing, but there's a decent amount of snow on the ground. Harry's breath turns to smoke as he exhales slowly, watching the whispy vapor swirl up into the cloudy sky.

 

"I wanna build a snowman!" Fizzy announces, running out onto the snow-coated lawn and beginning to roll up a large snowball.

 

Together everyone rolls the first two snowballs, placing one on top of the other. As Harry blows on his bare, frozen hands to warm them up, the girls begin working on the snowman's head.

 

"Hey Harry!" Louis calls from behind Harry. He turns around and squeaks as Louis smashes a clump of snow onto Harry's curls.

 

"You d - you - you turd!" Harry yells at the laughing Louis. Man, not-swearing is hard to do.

 

Revenge is needed, so Harry gathers up some snow in his numbly cold hands and chases after Louis, shoving it down the back of his shirt. Louis squeals adorably, shivering before tackling Harry to the ground.

 

Harry giggles and yells for Louis to stop as he shoves his fingers into Harry's belly, tickling him relentlessly.

 

"Louis - Lou - stop it -" Harry is cut off as laughter racks his cold body, Louis finding all of the places that make Harry squirm and giggle like crazy.

 

"You're so ticklish, you loser," Louis states.He sounds endeared, laughing a bit as well even though he's not the one being tickled. His glasses are a little fogged up from the effort of tickling Harry mixed with the cold outside, but that somehow just makes him more adorable. How does he do it? "I'll stop when you tell me I win."

 

"N-never!" Harry chokes, coughing a bit as he laughs. Louis jabs his fingers extra-hard into Harry's ribs, making Harry squeal and slap at Louis' hands blindly.

 

Louis smirks. "I guess I'm never stopping, then."

 

"Fine, fine, you win!" Harry admits in defeat. Finally Louis stops, which is when Harry realizes that Louis has been straddling his hips the whole time. Don't think about it, Harry, don't think about it.

 

"Repeat after me," Louis says. He clears his throat before continuing, "I, Harry Styles..."

 

"I, Harry Styles..." Harry pants, heart still racing from laughing so hard.

 

"Admit that Louis is the best person - and boyfriend -"

 

Harry smiles as he repeats this phrase.

 

"That I have ever known."

 

Harry rolls his eyes, feigning exasperation. "That I have ever known." Secretly, Harry is pleased that Louis referred to himself as Harry's boyfriend.

 

"Glad we agree on this," Louis smirks. Harry rolls his eyes once again but smiles. His boyfriend smiles as well and leans forward, licking Harry's nose before rolling off of him.

 

Harry pouts and wipes his nose with his hand. "Ew, gross."

 

"Rude one, you are," Louis teases. "I was just trying to show my affection for my wonderful boyfriend, and you call me gross. Did your mum even teach you manners?"

 

Harry laughs. "You're ridiculous."

 

***

 

Once everyone is back inside, Harry and Louis dripping wet and the girls sniffly and happy from making their snowman, Jay insists that everybody change into dry clothes.

 

So Harry walks back outside to his mum's car, grabs his overnight bag (holy shit he's actually staying over) and scampers into Louis' room to change.

 

Louis is already in a clean grey hoodie and black trackies, his glasses set aside on his bedside table. He's texting someone on his phone when Harry walks into the room.

 

"Harry," Louis says as he looks up from his phone. He scoots over on the bed and pats the place next to him, inviting Harry to sit down. Once Harry does, Louis shows him the phone, saying, "look."

 

He's been texting Liam. Here's how the conversation goes:

 

Liam: FUCK

 

Liam: LOUIS

 

Liam: HELP I JUST TOLD ZAYN I LOVE HIM BY ACCIDENT

 

Louis: Calm down Li. How did he react?

 

Liam: I DON'T KNOW. WE WERE ON THE PHONE AND I WAS SAYING GOODBYE AND I ACCIDENTALLY SAID "BYE LOVE YOU" AND THEN I REALIZED WAT I DID AND I HUNG UP BEFORE HE SAID ANYTHING

 

Louis: You dumbass

 

Liam: YOU'RE NOT HELPING PLEASE LOUIS

 

And that's where the conversation ends.

 

"Well, fuck," is all Harry can say. The whole conversation reminds Harry of the fact that he still hasn't told Louis that he loves him, and he should, but he still knows that it's too early.

 

Louis types a text to Liam, saying 'Just text him and say that it was an accident or something'.

 

Liam: But I do love him. It was an accident but I want him to know that I actualy do love him

 

"Aww," Louis coos at his phone. "Look at that, Harry, my little Liam is in love. They grow up so fast." He pretends to wipe a tear from his eye.

 

'My little Liam'. Okay, Harry knows that Louis and Liam are just friends, but. No. Harry is Louis', not Liam. For some reason, a spark of jealousy is set off within Harry's chest. He pushes it down, knowing that he's just being dumb.

 

Louis: Then tell him that you're sorry if he thinks that it's too early, but you really do love him and you don't want that to affect your relationship at all

 

"Well aren't you the love expert," Harry teases, hooking his chin over his boyfriend's shoulder as he reads the text Louis is sending. It's a little bit scary, but Louis' text perfectly reflects how Harry feels right now about Louis. Maybe Louis can read minds.

 

Louis doesn't even answer Harry, but Harry doesn't mind. He wraps his arms around Louis' waist and cuddles the smaller boy.

 

Just then Louis receives a picture from Liam, a screenshot of a conversation between Zayn and Liam. Louis clicks on it and both boys are silent as they read it.

 

Liam: Oh fuck I'm sorry that I said I love you. I do love you, I hope that doesn't bother you, and I don't want this to change our relationship if you don't love me back quite yet, okay? xx

 

Zayn: Liam

 

Zayn: You are so stupid, you know that?

 

Liam: What?

 

Zayn: I love you too babe (: x

 

Harry squeals and giggles, hiding his face in Louis' shoulder. He feels so happy that things worked out okay, and he thinks that Liam and Zayn totally deserve this. They deserve each other, their love for each other, everything. Harry thinks he ships them.

 

"Harold, my boy, we have just witnessed a beautiful love story," Louis announces. He kisses the top of Harry's head, ruffling his curls afterward. It causes problems, butterfly problems, deep in Harry's tummy.

 

Problem solved, Harry gets up off the bed reluctantly and searches his bag for some clean clothes.

 

He's just about to strip down and change when he remembers that he's wearing a lacy red thong. Blush rises in his cheeks. Louis can't see him with girl's pants on, he'll think that Harry is some weirdo and won't want to kiss him anymore. Even if he doesn't, Harry's sure that Louis won't be readily accepting of the fact that his boyfriend likes to wear panties.

 

"I'm gonna go change in the bathroom, yeah, I'll do that," Harry announces. He turns away from Louis and starts walking toward the door.

 

"You don't have to be shy Harold, I bet your body is beautiful," Louis praises from behind Harry. The younger boy blushes even harder.

 

"It's not - I'm not - um. Yeah. I'm just... yeah," Harry stutters. He leaves the room quickly, walking downstairs to that same nautical bathroom he changed in a while ago.

 

When Harry arrives back in Louis' room, dry clothes on and feeling warm, the boy is waiting for Harry.

 

"I made you a song while you were gone, Hazza," Louis states. Before Harry can protest, he sings, "You're insecure. Don't know what for. You're turning heads when you walk through the door!"

 

He's got the most prideful look on his face Harry's ever seen, and the younger boy has a surge of affection for his boyfriend. Even though Harry isn't very insecure about his body, that's not what any of this is about, Harry thinks that Louis is the most wonderful person alive.

 

"Um, yeah, that's all," Louis says, shrugging and smiling sheepishly. Harry thinks Louis' singing voice sounds like warm honey.

 

"It was beautiful," Harry complements. It sounds like he means the song, but he's mostly talking about Louis' singing. He never knew that such a gorgeous boy could also sing so well.

 

Louis blushes. "Thank you, Hazza."

 

They venture back downstairs where the girls are all watching the movie Elf. Harry's mum, Louis' mum, and Louis' grandparents are all chatting in the next room over.

 

Harry and Louis sit on the couch because the girls are all on the floor. They're not touching, which Harry doesn't approve of, because Harry and Louis should always be touching. It's like a rule.

 

"I'm cold," Harry announces. After all, everyone knows that 'I'm cold' is the universal code for 'cuddle me'.

 

Louis doesn't get it. He just turns to Harry, makes an 'I'm sorry' face, and turns back to the TV screen. The oblivious dork.

 

So Harry takes the initiative and scoots closer to Louis, pressing himself against Louis' side and nuzzling his face into Louis' warm shoulder. The blue eyed boy seems to radiate heat, probably because he's the literal human form of sunshine.

 

"Lou," Harry whispers into Louis' ear. "When I say I'm cold, that means you should cuddle me."

 

"Oh," Louis whispers back. He wraps an arm around Harry's waist, which is cuddling enough for Harry. But then Louis is pulling Harry into his lap and hugging with both arms around Harry's middle, which is more than amazing. Louis hooks his chin over Harry's shoulder and settles himself against Harry, who leans his back into Louis' chest.

 

Warmth spreads from Harry's unevenly beating heart to his fingertips. It fills him with a thrumming energy, something delicate and beautiful that one can only describe as love. Harry really, really loves Louis, and there's no going back now.

 

The movie goes on and Harry giggles a lot, not having seen this movie in a while. It's a cute movie.

 

Louis whispers the words of "Baby it's cold outside" when that part of the movie comes, and Harry whispers then back. He's blushing and giggling and he's sure he looks like an idiot, but Louis is looking at him like Harry is the only thing that matters in the world and he can't seem to care that he looks like a dork.

 

Once the movie is over, Harry's mum leaves and everyone goes to their separate rooms to get ready for bed. Jay follows Harry and Louis into Louis' room.

 

"Are you okay sharing with Louis?" she asks Harry. "Otherwise I could get you some blankets and-"

 

"That's alright, I can share," Harry cuts her off. His eyes find Louis, who's sitting on his bed and attempting to hide a smile.

 

Jay smiles. "Alright, then. Merry Christmas, boys." And with that, she leaves Harry and Louis alone in the room.

 

Feeling a little sleepy already, Harry glances at Louis' clock and reads 9:30 pm. It's not even late, but he's full with Christmas food and sleepy from a movie.

 

"You look sleepy," Louis notes, practically reading Harry's mind. Harry blushes and shrugs.

 

"I mean. Kind of," he admits.

 

Louis smiles softly. "That's fine, we can just talk or whatever."

 

Has Harry mentioned how much he loves Louis?

 

And then, before Harry knows it, Louis is pulling his shirt off over his head. His body is flawless, an endless expanse of golden skin, a small tummy exposed which Harry wants to kiss and nuzzle his face into.

 

Louis must notice Harry staring, because he says, "Oh. Um. Should I not have...?"

 

"No, no you're fine," Harry assures. He shakes his head a little too vigorously, using all of his willpower to keep his eyes on Louis' face instead of his golden torso.

 

"You too, then," Louis commands, gesturing at Harry with his hand.

 

Okay. Harry's not usually insecure about his body, but this is Louis. Louis is so important and Harry wants to be as perfect as him, which he doesn't feel at the moment. After all, Louis is toned and beautiful and tan, and Harry is pale and he's got four nipples and he just feels so useless next to this god of a man.

 

"I - I'd rather not," Harry mumbles, wrapping his arms around his torso self-consciously. Since when was he like this?

 

Louis frowns. He gives Harry a once-over, a quizzical expression on his flawlessly beautiful face. "Why not?"

 

Harry blushes. "I just don't want to."

 

"Are you insecure, baby?"

 

The question hangs in the air like smoke, the thick and hazy kind. Harry looks down at his hands and shrugs noncommittally.

 

Arms are wrapped around Harry's waist, Louis' chin rested on his chest. Sparkling blue eyes are boring into Harry's own green ones, a look of determination on Louis' pretty face.

 

"You are, aren't you?" Louis asks. He doesn't wait for an answer before continuing. "Hazza, you are so beautiful. Your face and your eyes and your hair, you're the most beautiful person I have ever met. Why don't you think so too?"

 

Harry gazes down into Louis' eyes, blushing. His mind is hazy with all the compliments he's receiving, and Louis' naked torso is all pressed up against him and he just feels so... not here. Like this isn't happening to him. Regardless, Harry answers Louis' question.

 

"Because you're better than me," he answers. It's a stupid sentence, but with Louis around, Harry can never say anything smart.

 

Louis smiles. "No I'm not, Harry. You have the green eyes, the dimples, the charm. You have the chocolate curls and the long deer legs. You're amazing, don't ever think otherwise."

 

Harry feels like his face is on fire. "But, you're all muscular and you've got the blue eyes and the nice bum. I don't have a nice bum."

 

His dick literally twitches when Harry feels Louis' hand snake down and grab at his arse. It makes Harry unbelievably turned on, whether that was the intention or not.

 

"You do, Hazza. Nice and perky and it fits right in my hands," Louis compliments.

 

Harry hides his face in his hands, blushing and biting his palm to stop from smiling. His love for Louis is growing more and more by the second.

 

"Now," Louis continues. "Do you need me to show you how beautiful you are?"

 

Harry's brain short-circuits for a moment before he realizes the meaning behind Louis' words. People only say things like that when... when...

 

When they want to have sex.

 

Louis' perfect eyes are staring into Harry's soul, watching his reaction to Louis' words. And Harry's a virgin, his hand is his only sex partner, so this question should terrify him. It should make him uncomfortable and anxious.

 

But it doesn't.

 

Because Harry trusts Louis. He knows Louis will take care of him, won't hurt Harry and won't force him into it if Harry changes his mind.

 

"Okay," Harry whispers.

 

And then Louis' lips are pressing ever so softly onto Harry's, a gentle kiss which tells Harry that he'll be alright. Slowly they make their way to the bed where they made out last time, laying down in the same position as before.

 

After kissing for a while things get passionate and heated, Louis' tongue exploring Harry's mouth as Harry whimpers desperately under him.

 

Suddenly Louis stops kissing Harry. He wriggles down Harry's body and grasps the hem of Harry's t-shirt.

 

"I’m going to take this off now, okay, baby?” Louis asks. He gazes right into Harry’s eyes with such adoration in his expression, and Harry trusts Louis. He’s also half-hard and very turned on.

 

Shakily, Harry nods. That gives Louis the OK to just rip Harry’s shirt off, his own half-naked chest pressed right up against Harry’s semi-hard cock, but no. Louis is too good to just strip him down right away.

 

Instead, Louis lifts Harry’s white t-shirt up an inch or so, kissing at the skin that becomes exposed. He proceeds this way, lifting Harry’s shirt a little more, exposing his belly button, and Harry watches as Louis softly presses several kisses along the newly revealed skin.

 

Slowly, Louis continues to slowly strip off Harry’s shirt, kissing up Harry’s stomach and sternum until he reaches Harry’s nipples. Soft fingertips ghost over Harry’s over-sensitive nipples, causing Harry to groan quietly and squint his eyes shut.

 

“Your nipples are always so hard,” Louis mumbles. His voice is an octave lower than normal, raspy and really more like a growl. He sounds so turned on that Harry resists the urge to groan once again. “It turns me on so much.”

 

Well. “Really?”

 

“Fuck yeah,” Louis whispers. His breath ghosts over Harry’s nipples before Harry feels the most odd sensation. And _oh_ , that’s Louis’ mouth, wet heat of it licking over the sensitive skin of Harry’s nipple.

 

Before he can resist it, Harry moans out a “Fuck, Louis.” By now his pants and jeans are ridiculously tight around his full cock, the bulge of it straining against his zipper, Louis’ continued licking and sucking of his hard, puffy nipple making him so unbelievably aroused that he has to try really hard avoid coming in his pants like last time.

 

Louis switches from one of Harry’s nipples to the other, sucking and biting and licking until Harry is a whimpering mess beneath him.

 

“Shh, shh, Hazza babe my parents can’t hear you,” Louis whispers, making to put his finger over Harry’s lips to quiet him. Somehow, his finger ends up slipping past Harry’s lips and into his mouth though, and naturally Harry sucks on it.

 

His boyfriend watches, eyelids widening to reveal dilated pupils surrounded by only a strip of the normal sparkling blue. Harry looks straight into Louis’ eyes as he sucks slowly, not knowing where else to look. After all, Louis is gorgeous. And he’s Harry’s. Only Harry’s.

 

Louis withdraws his finger from Harry’s mouth, and Harry attempts at chase after it. However, Louis stops him by grabbing Harry’s shirt and finally lifting it over Harry’s head. And now Harry is half-naked.

 

Lustful blue eyes scan over Harry’s long torso, and Harry blushes at the attention.

 

“You have four nipples,” Louis whispers, looking into Harry’s eyes. His expression is laced with awe and admiration. The smaller boy runs his hands down Harry’s chest and stomach, smoothing over every bit of skin and just touching everywhere.

 

“So beautiful, Harry,” Louis whispers in wonderment. “So fucking beautiful. Like a pretty princess. My princess.”

 

Harry’s poor, hard cock gives an excited twitch in his pants at that. _Princess_. Precome drips into the inside of his pants. Fuck.

 

Louis and Harry make out languidly for a while longer, savoring the taste of each other’s mouths and the leftover flavor from the food they ate earlier. Soon enough they begin to slowly rock the bulges in their pants against one another’s, relieving a little bit of the tension built up in their hard cocks.

 

All of Harry’s skin is on fire, caused by Louis running his hands all over Harry’s chest and back as they kiss. It seems almost like Louis can’t touch Harry enough, can’t get enough of the feeling of Harry’s soft skin against his own. Harry agrees, loves the feeling of Louis’ bare chest against his own, Louis’ hands running up and down his back and brushing over his sensitive nipples.

 

“Fuck, Haz, let me take off my trousers, okay?” Louis asks. Harry’s heart thumps against his chest, knowing the fact that they’re about to have sex is becoming more and more of a reality as time goes on.

 

So Louis sits back on his knees, which gives Harry a full view of his tented trackies. Harry watches as Louis hooks his thumbs under the waistband before pulling them down, kicking them off onto the floor.

 

Wow. If Harry has learned one thing today, it’s that Louis tucks left.

 

The shape of Louis’ cock is blatantly obvious, outlined in the tight pants that really don’t leave anything to the imagination. It’s long and thick and it makes Harry’s breath stop for a moment, imagining that inside of him.

 

“You too, now,” Louis orders, palming lightly at his own cock through the cotton of his tight pants. It’s ridiculously hot. Harry doesn’t know how he’ll last.

 

Blush heats up in Harry’s cheeks when he remembers which pants he’s wearing today. No, no, no. Louis isn’t supposed to know that Harry wears girls’ pants. Fuck.

 

Harry shakes his head. “No, no.”

 

His head is ridiculously clouded with lust. All of the blood in his body seems to be flowing into his obscenely hard cock, and he can feel the precome soaking patches into the front of his red thong.

 

The smaller boy looks at Harry affectionately and soothingly, putting his hand on Harry’s arm. “Okay, baby. But you’re going to have to take them off at some point, otherwise we can’t… you know.”

 

Yeah. Harry knows.

 

Just then Louis ducks forward and attaches his lips to Harry’s neck, slowly suckling at a patch of skin just under Harry’s ear.

 

“F-fuck, Lou,” Harry groans, throwing his head back with lust.

 

After licking over the bruise that had been formed, Louis moves to a different section of Harry’s neck. “Mine. All mine,” he whispers against the skin.

 

For a while Louis continues this way, kissing and sucking bruises into the skin of Harry’s neck and collarbones. Harry is reduced to a quivering, turned on mess, ready and willing to lose his virginity to this beautiful boy.

 

Once Louis reaches Harry’s tummy, he presses a gentle kiss there. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Harry knows what’s next.

 

“Okay, Haz, you’ve gotta take your trousers off now,” Louis whispers into the skin of Harry’s soft tummy. He looks up into Harry’s eyes as he does so. “Don’t worry, you’re beautiful.”

 

Slowly, so slowly, Harry nods. Louis will find out at some point, anyway.

 

So Louis presses soothing, open-mouthed kisses to Harry’s hipbones and tummy and he unbuttons Harry’s jeans, pulls down his zipper, and.

 

And reveals what Harry’s wearing.

 

Harry’s mind is a chorus of _oh fuck, oh shit, he’s gonna hate me now, oh shit_. His boyfriend is just staring, Harry’s jeans pulled down to about mid-thigh, his lacy pants - which are straining against his cock - on full display.

 

“Shit, Harry,” Louis whispers. Okay, Harry’s life has been ruined, his boyfriend hates him. RIP Harry.

 

“I-I’m sorry,” Harry apologizes pointlessly. “Niall gave them to me as a joke and then I wore them and I liked it, and just, fuck. I’m sorry. It’s weird, I know -”

 

He’s cut off when Louis looks from his lacy pants into his eyes. Those sparkling blue eyes, the ones Harry fell in love with, they say it all.

 

“Fuck, Harry, I’ve seen so many girls in panties, you know?” he asks. Confused, Harry just stares at him and waits for him to continue. “And - _fuck_  - none of them have ever been close to as hot as you look right now. It... it even has a little bow on it.”

 

For a second, Harry is rendered speechless. Then Louis’ words set in. He thinks Harry looks hot. Oh. Okay.

 

“You don’t think it’s weird?” Harry asks, not willing to believe it.

 

Louis looks back down at Harry’s precome-soaked pants. “No, baby. You look so fucking hot. I want to wreck you.”

 

Has Harry ever mentioned that Louis is the best boyfriend ever?

 

The two boys get Harry’s ridiculously tight trousers off before Louis ducks his head down, kissing softly at Harry’s thigh. It trembles under Louis’ lips.

 

Harry just really wants to get fucked.

 

He waits patiently, though, allows Louis to take it slow. After all, he wants their first time (and Harry’s official First Time) to be taken slow, for it to be loving and gentle instead of just a quick fuck.

 

Eventually, as Louis kisses higher up on Harry’s legs, sucking bruises and licking over them, his lips brushing the hem of Harry’s panties, Harry feels Louis’ hand slip back and grab his ass. His virtually uncovered ass, thanks to the thong he’s currently got on. And fuck, that paired with the lovebites Louis is sucking into his thighs turns him on so much, makes him moan and arch his back a little on the mattress.

 

Louis’ slightly calloused hand kneads at Harry’s arse cheeks as he moves up just a little more, kissing the bulge in Harry’s pants through the fabric.

 

“Shit, Louis, just do it,” Harry whimpers. Louis squeezes his bum harder.

 

“Do what, baby?” Louis asks. “Use your words for me.”

 

“F-f-” Harry doesn’t want to say it aloud. It makes him feel all embarrassed.

 

“What do you want me to do, Hazza?” Louis asks, looking up into Harry’s eyes with his face hovering just inches above Harry’s scantily clad cock.

 

“F-” Harry stutters, “fuck me.”

 

Louis moans softly. Wow. Harry made Louis moan with just his words. “Alright, baby. I got you.”

 

And with that, Louis takes the top of Harry’s panties and tugs down, exposing his hard and leaking cock.

 

For a few second Louis just stares. Harry’s not quite sure what he’s staring at, it’s just a dick, but for a good four or five seconds all he does is stare at Harry’s untouched cock.

 

Until, “Fuck.”

 

Oh no. There’s something lacing Louis’ tone that Harry really doesn’t like.

 

“Harry, you…” Louis looks into Harry’s eyes, something not-good in his expression. “You’ve got a dick.”

 

Harry laughs uncomfortably, squirming a little. “Um, yeah? Does that surprise you?”

 

Louis shakes his head, eyes wide. “No, no, it’s just. Like. You’re a guy. And as much as I want to, like, have sex with you…”

 

He looks up into Harry’s eyes, guilt ruling his expression.

 

“I just don’t know how.”

 

Oh. Right. Harry totally forgot that Louis is just as new to this as Harry is. After all, Louis’ never fucked another bloke before.

 

Harry cups Louis’ cheek in his large hand. “That’s okay, Lou, we don’t have to do this tonight.”

 

Louis looks down at his hands, seemingly frustrated with himself.

 

“Right. I’m sorry. Next time.”

 

Harry nods, smiling weakly. He’s still so very hard.

 

For a few seconds, there’s nothing but silence in the room. Both boys aren’t sure which way to turn. Finally, Harry speaks.

 

“If you don’t want to do anything new, I mean...”

 

“Yeah?” Louis asks.

 

Harry blushes, looking down at his still-hard cock. “I could always. Like. Suck you off.”

 

Louis gasps, and Harry takes that as a good sign. He’s proven right when he looks up and Louis is gaping in wonder and adoration, his entire expression fond and excited.

 

“I’ve never done it before, of course, but I can give it a try,” Harry states. There’s a first time for anything, after all.

 

The thing is, Harry often finds himself bored. And when he’s bored, what better thing to do than look up things about sex? He is a teenage boy, after all. So, naturally, Harry has looked up ‘How to Give a Blowjob’ many times before. Don’t judge, it’s not like you haven’t searched it up either. Don’t lie to yourself.

 

“Harry, fuck, yes,” Louis says. It’s good to know the boy is so enthusiastic.

 

They switch positions so that Louis is laying on his back, Harry's face hovering above his clothed, hard cock.

 

“Wait, baby,” Louis stops him before Harry can do anything. “Can you um, like, kind of… put those pants back on?”

 

Harry frowns, sitting up on his haunches. “Is it really bothering you to see my cock?”

 

Louis frowns as well. “No, of course not, I think your cock is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” (Harry can tell he’s not being sarcastic. He’ll deny later that he preens at the compliment.) Louis blushes suddenly. “It’s just that. Like. You look really good with the panties on and it turns me on a lot.”

 

Oh. _Oh_. Okay, then. Harry quickly pulls the pants back up his legs, the leaking head of his cock still poking out of the top. Whatever.

 

After that’s settled, Harry leans back down and, deciding to tease a little, presses a soft kiss to Louis’ cock through his pants. What he doesn’t expect is for Louis to whimper at that, but he does. Harry’s cock leaks a little more precome onto his stomach.

 

So Louis likes the teasing. Good to know.

 

Harry presses an open-mouthed kiss to Louis’ bulge. He then moves and shapes out the length of it through the cotton of Louis’ pants, the older boy moaning lowly beneath him. Harry licks a stripe on the cotton, drawing another whimper from Louis’ lips, before deciding that he’s teased enough.

 

His heart thuds against his ribcage as Harry hooks his fingers through the waistband of Louis’ pants, taking a deep breath before pulling them down Louis’ legs and tossing them carelessly to the floor.

 

Only when Harry looks back up does he get his first real view of Louis’ cock.

 

Honestly, it’s beautiful. It’s red and leaking, resting against Louis’ stomach in a pretty curve. The length of it is at least 8 inches long while hard, nice and thick, and Harry subconsciously licks his lips while looking at it.

 

“Fuck, so hot, Lou,” Harry whispers. Alright, now is when he gives his first blowjob.

 

Starting slow, Harry leans down and tentatively grabs the base, standing Louis’ length upright and staring at it. It’s hot and heavy in his hand, and it’s the prettiest cock Harry’s ever seen, which isn’t saying much - he hasn't seen too many other cocks before - but still. It’s beautiful.

 

Harry gives the head of Louis’ dick a few tentative kitten licks, just getting a taste for it. It’s not as bad as he expected it to taste, doesn’t really taste like much, but Harry wants more. Wants to take Louis’ cock so far into his mouth that he can’t breathe. Wants his jaw to ache. Wants to gag over and over again. Wants to taste Louis’ come as it runs down his throat. Harry wants it all.

 

So, going by what the website said, Harry closes his lips around the head and swirls his tongue. That elicits a “holy fucking shit” from Louis’ swollen lips, which Harry takes as a sign to keep going.

 

Harry slides his mouth down the length a few inches, making sure to keep his teeth away from Louis’ cock as he does so. On the way back up Harry hollows his cheeks, sucking a little before swirling his tongue around the head again and bobbing back down.

 

“F-fuck, Harry, I thought you said this was your f-first time,” Louis whimpers. Harry looks up at his boyfriend through his eyelashes and sees Louis’ head thrown back, hands gripping the sheets and eyes shut tight with pleasure.

 

Oh, god. He’s so hot. Even with the head of Louis’ cock in his mouth, Harry moans.

 

Louis gasps. “D-don’t do that, fuck, Harry, I won’t last.”

 

Harry's heart flutters at the sort-of-compliment, and then he's taking a few more inches of Louis’ cock into his mouth. Once again he hollows his cheeks, trying his hardest not to let his teeth get in the way.

 

“H-Harry, with your - your hand,” Louis stutters. “At the base.”

 

What? Oh. Harry uses his hand, which is at the base of Louis’ length, to stroke where he can’t get to with his mouth. After a few moments he develops a sort of rhythm, bobbing his head up and down slowly as he strokes the base.

 

Another thing Harry learns is that Louis really likes to talk. Like, he doesn't stop. And Harry loves it. Most of the time it isn’t even coherent sentences, instead just profanity and random noises. Louis also really likes to praise.

 

“Fuck, doing so good,” Louis moans. Harry feels one of Louis’ hands slip into his curls, tugging a bit, while the other stays firmly gripping the sheets. “Can’t believe this is your f-first time, shit, you’re so - _f_ _uck_  - so good.”

 

All the while, Harry’s own cock is growing increasingly problematic, straining harder than ever against the delicate lace of his panties. He’s sitting on his knees, one hand holding Louis’ thigh, the other pumping Louis' base as he slowly sucks him off, arse up in the air and cock untouched and leaking inside of his panties.

 

Eventually Harry goes a little overboard, sinks down on Louis’ cock an inch too far and feels it hit against the back of his throat. Harry gags and pulls his mouth off of Louis’ cock for a moment, trying to regain his breath. Well, that was embarrassing.

 

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes, and wow. He’s never heard his own voice like this. It sounds rough and deep, filled with lust, raspy from having a cock in his mouth.

 

Louis looks absolutely wrecked, one hand gripping the sheets with white knuckles and the other still buried in Harry’s curls. His pupils are blown wide, his face red and lips raw from being bitten.

 

“Jesus,” Louis whines. He bucks his hips up a little into Harry’s hand, seeking friction. “You look so good right now. Should see yourself.”

 

With that in mind and his breath regained, Harry ducks back down and licks a stripe up the length of Louis’ erection, along the sensitive vein along the underside of his boyfriend's cock. He does that a few more times until he hears a whimper leave Louis’ lips. A smirk finds its way across Harry’s face, knowing that _he_ did that. _He_ made Louis sound so wrecked. _Harry_ did that.

 

Harry closes his lips around the head of Louis' cock, suckling there for a moment before - more tentatively - he sinks his mouth down a few inches.

 

“Hazza, shit, feel so good,” Louis whimpers. Harry moans around his cock, because he knows that drives Louis crazy. His theory is proven correct when Louis’ thigh shudders underneath Harry’s hand. “Oh my God, you look so pretty with your mouth on my cock. Fuck, so pretty, my princess.”

 

That sets Harry off. He takes as much of Louis’ cock into his mouth as he can, swirling his tongue around it in the way that Louis likes. Next he just sucks at the head, teasing, dipping his tongue into the slit and sinking back down again. Wow, he's really getting the hang of this.

 

Louis gasps. “Fuck, Princess, you gotta - oh my God, ‘m close. So close Hazza fuck I wanna come on your face.”

 

Harry stops abruptly at that. The mixture of the words “Princess”, “close”, and “come on your face” makes him so ridiculously turned on that, before he even knows what’s happening, he’s coming hard in his pants. Oh, fuck. He didn’t even touch himself.

 

Trying not to make it obvious what he just did, Harry pulls his mouth off of Louis’ cock, sitting back on his heels and discreetly covering his scantily clothed, rapidly softening cock with his hands.

 

Louis sits up on his knees, cock positioned directly in front of Harry’s face. He strokes himself fast, the slickness of Harry’s mouth allowing him to do so.

 

“Harry, you gotta close your eyes, fuck, I’m gonna -” Louis doesn’t finish his sentence as a moan rips through his body. Harry has just enough time to close his eyes, mouth parted as he feels string after string of hot come shoot out of Louis' cock.

 

A majority ends up in Harry’s mouth, and Harry swallows it reflexively. It doesn’t taste nearly as bad as he would’ve expected. It’s mostly just like swallowing excess saliva. Salty saliva. It’s really not bad at all.

 

It takes a few seconds more for Harry to realize that Louis is finished coming, and he opens up his eyes. He’s met with the sight of Louis, eye level with Harry, now-soft dick tucked back into his pants and staring at him in awe and adoration.

 

The two boys just stare at each other for a moment, until Louis speaks.

 

“Jesus, Harry. You’re so…” he flails his arms about uselessly, trying to convey some unknown point. After a few seconds he gives up and brings his hands to Harry’s face. “You’re amazing.”

 

Harry blushes at the complement, smiling and licking around his mouth a little to find any excess come.

 

“Was… was it good?” Harry asks timidly. He looks down at his hands, playing absently with his fingers. “It was my first time, I’m sorry if it kind of sucked.” Wow. What an ironic statement.

 

Louis gasps. “Harold. How dare you.” Harry looks up to see Louis staring at him, mouth parted. “Don’t you ever say anything like that ever again.”

 

“What?” Harry asks.

 

“That was, by far, the best blowjob I have received in my entire life,” Louis answers indignantly. “And you know why?” At the shake of Harry’s head, he says, “Because it was _you_ , Hazza. And I l-like you. A lot.”

 

Harry ignores the fact that Louis stutters on the word “like”, promising himself not to dwell on that. Instead, he preens at the compliment.

 

“Plus, you were really fucking good, Hazza,” Louis promises. “Like, I refuse to believe you’ve never sucked dick before.”

 

Harry blushes and shrugs. “Never.”

 

“Unbelievable,” Louis tuts, shaking his head. A look crosses his face. Guilt, maybe? “Oh, fuck, Harry, do you still need to…?”

 

He glances down to where Harry’s hands are still covering the wet spot in his panties. Oh, no. Once again, Harry blushes as he moves his hands to reveal the massive wet spot and his soft cock.

 

“Oh,” Louis whispers. He looks back up at Harry, awe in his eyes. “Was that just from having my cock in your mouth?”

 

Harry’s face feels hot. “You - you talk a lot, as well. It’s, um. Yeah.”

 

“Jesus,” Louis shakes his head once again. “How will I handle you, Flower Boy?”

 

They get Harry’s face cleaned up before climbing into Louis’ small bed together, Harry commando in a pair of his trackies because his pants were ruined.

 

It’s almost natural, the way they fit together. Louis lays down on his back and Harry automatically curls into his side, Louis’ arm around his waist and keeping him close. They kiss lazily for a while, just slowly exploring each other’s mouths with their tongues, happy and at peace where they’re cuddled together.

 

After a while, when Harry is too tired to even kiss Louis, he slowly rubs their noses together before resting his head on the older boy’s chest, allowing Louis’ slow breaths and steady heartbeat to lull him into a soft state of not-quite-being-asleep.

 

And about ten minutes later, when Louis thinks Harry is asleep, he hears a whisper in the darkness of the room.

  
“You’re mine, Hazza, you know that?” Louis asks. Harry tries not to squeal with happiness and love when he feels Louis press several kisses to his curls and continue, “All mine. God, I don’t know how I got so lucky.”


	15. Chapter 15

Going back to school on Wednesday, after break, Harry is ridiculously nervous.

Not because he’s going back to school, no. The churning in Harry’s gut and the uneven quality of his breath are caused by none other than Louis Tomlinson.

After Christmas they’d talked for a long time. Louis had confessed that being openly gay to the whole school seemed terrifying, but he wanted to do it nonetheless. Harry, though he wanted to be able to kiss Louis and hold his hand in public, had to reason with him about whether or not he really wanted to do this. After all, Harry’s coming out experience wasn’t very much fun, and he can only imagine what it will be like for someone as well-liked as Louis.

So Louis had promised that by the time they got back to school he’ll have decided. And Harry’s nerves are caused by the fact that he still doesn’t know whether Louis will be coming out or not. Harry's on the fence about it. After all, he wants Louis to come out so that they don't have to hide their relationship, but he wants Louis to be happy. And if hiding is what will make Louis happy, then Harry is ready to accept that.

There’s also the fact that Louis and Harry agreed to tell the other boys about their relationship in person, as opposed to telling them through text/call. Not that Harry thinks his friends will react badly, but he’s still nervous as fuck about it. It’s almost like introducing your boyfriend to your mum.

Once Harry gets to school he’s surprised to see Louis waiting by the doors. This has never happened before. Usually Louis is off doing things with his friends, or just being the social butterfly he is. Louis spots Harry and skitters over to him, weaving through the crowds of people like an expert and coming to a stop in front of Harry.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly. Harry’s nerves mount with every passing second.

“So?” he asks, biting his lip in anticipation.

Louis sighs. He looks sad and disappointed - in himself? - and maybe even a little guilty. “I… um. I’m scared.” 

What? Harry furrows his eyebrows and silently waits for his boyfriend to elaborate.

“I… like you. A lot. You know that, right?” Louis asks. Harry nods, heart fluttering despite himself, and Louis continues, “I’m just not ready, though. It’s scary, Hazza, I’m so sorry.” And he really does looks sorry, he looks almost like he's angry at himself. But, no. Louis shouldn't be angry at himself for doing what's comfortable.

Harry’s heart melts a little and he reaches out, tucking Louis into a hug, whispering into his hair, “That’s alright, Louis. I was scared, too. Don’t be sorry.”

“We can just be secret boyfriends for now,” Louis states, smiling up at Harry in that special way that makes the skin near his eyes crinkle. His eyes are sparkling, blue like ice, his face all pretty pink lips and sharp canines and cheeks flushed from the cold. Wow, Harry really loves this boy. Loves him more than anything in the world.

***

When lunch rolls around and all of the boys are sitting together, Harry and Louis on one side with the other three opposite them, Harry’s nerves mount once again. It's the same stomach-churning nervousness that Harry had felt earlier, the kind that makes Harry feel like he can't breathe right.

Louis’ hand slips into his own underneath the table where no one can see, and Harry can feel Louis stroking along the back of his hand comfortingly with his thumb. It's almost like an anchor of sorts, calming Harry's nerves just a bit and making him feel warm. The two boys’ eyes meet, and Louis nods toward the others. Stay calm, Harry, it’s time.

“Guys,” Louis announces, “Hazza and I have an announcement to make.” Harry's heart beats a little faster with every word out of Louis' mouth.

“You’re pregnant,” Niall jokes, earning laughs from the others.

“No, shut the fuck up Niall before I shove a carrot up your ass,” Louis commands. Niall laughs again. Once he’s finished laughing and all attention is on Harry and Louis, they look at each other, and Harry squeezes Louis’ hand.

 

Oh, God. What if the boys don't approve? What if they don't like Louis enough for him to date Harry? What if Liam doesn't think Harry is good enough? There's so many ways this could go wrong, and Harry's lungs feel as if they're being constricted like a vice. Just say it, Harry. Just -

“We’re dating,” they blurt at the same time. Harry giggles despite himself, because they weren’t even trying to speak in unison.

All three boys just give the two blank looks for a moment. Harry’s heart is pounding in his chest. This can't be good. _Somebody, please say something_ , Harry silently pleads, his stomach twisting a little as the silence drags on.

Finally, Niall breaks the silence. “Pay up, Liam.”

And like that, the tension is broken. Liam groans, handing Niall a ten, and Niall smiles smugly. Everybody congratulates Harry and Louis on ‘finally getting their shit together’ and Zayn makes some comment on the sexual tension having been unbearable. Liam must've known about Louis' sexuality, because he's not surprised at all about the new development. Neither are Zayn or Niall, for that matter.

Harry just can’t believe Niall and Liam made a bet on him and Louis. Who does that?

Whatever. The guys all approve of his and Louis’ relationship, so Harry really doesn’t care. He never should've doubted his friends. He'll keep that in mind for future reference.

***

On Harry’s way to English later that day, he passes Louis in the hallway. He gives the boy a goofy smile - he can’t help it, really - and Louis returns it. But right when they go to pass each other, Louis grabs Harry’s arm and drags him behind a set of lockers.

The hallway is deserted, and Harry is confused. “Louis, what -”

Before he can finish that sentence, Louis is kissing him. It’s slow and dirty and Harry is in love with the way Louis’ lips move against his own, the steady rhythm of Louis’ tongue licking into his mouth, the way Harry has to hold back a whimper when Louis bites his bottom lip. The kiss is over all too soon, Louis pulling away and leaving Harry wanting more.

“See you in history, baby,” Louis whispers to Harry, pecking his lips one last time before striding off down the hall to his next class.

Harry is left horny, flustered, and late to his next class. He can’t say he’d have it any other way.

***

Harry learns quickly that while people are around, him and Louis are just pals. But as soon as the two are in a deserted hallway or an unoccupied bathroom, Harry and Louis are lovers who haven’t seen each other since World War II.

It’s not uncommon for Louis to grab Harry and drag him into the toilets or behind some lockers for an impromptu makeout session, and sometimes they’ll give each other silent handjobs in the bathroom stalls. It’s wonderful, beautiful, and by the end of that little three-day week Harry is in a rather good mood.

Though, despite the amazing feeling of finally being able to kiss Louis - his _boyfriend_  - there’s a nagging feeling of impatience in Harry’s gut. He honestly hates himself for it, because he knows that Louis isn’t ready to come out, but he can’t help it. Harry is so happy that Louis is his boyfriend, he wants to show Louis off, to let everyone know that Louis is _his_. And only his.

Harry pushes his negative feelings down, angry at himself, and focuses on his bubbly happiness. God, Louis Tomlinson will be the death of him.

The weekend goes by slowly, and Harry doesn’t see Louis either of the days. They still text each other, and by the time Monday comes along Harry is more excited than ever to see his beautiful boyfriend.

Louis pushes Harry behind a snow-covered tree outside of the school, and they share a few short kisses before going inside the warmth of the building. After walking together with Louis for a bit, both boys deliberately brushing their knuckles against one another’s, Harry feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, hey, Nick,” Harry greets. He gives Nick a friendly smile and turns to face him.

“Hey, you ready for the radio, Harold?” Nick asks.

Oh. Oops. Shit. Harry completely forgot about that. Whatever, Nick doesn’t need to know.

“Um, yeah,” Harry answers, smiling again.

Nick grins back. “Good, wouldn’t want you missing it, eh?” he asks, pinching Harry’s cheeks. Harry giggles and smacks the older boy’s hands away. Louis’ hand snakes up Harry’s back and curls around Harry’s shoulders, hand over Harry’s collarbone and his finger pressing against a lovebite he left a few days ago.

An unintentional smile spreads across Harry’s face as he looks down at his boyfriend, who looks pretty and flushed from the cold outside. His hair is fluffy, fringe in his eyes, and speaking of his eyes, oh god. They’re so pretty. Harry is falling deeper in love the longer he looks at this boy.

“Right,” Harry says, reluctantly prying his eyes away from the smaller boy and looking back at Nick. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes, I’m gonna go put my stuff away.”

With that, Harry turns and walks down the hallway, Louis still glued to his side.

***

The week drags on, and by Wednesday Harry is feeling tired and crappy. It’s just one of those days that nothing has gone wrong, but you kind of want to kill everyone within a 100-foot radius. You know what I’m talking about.

Harry drags his crap up to their table during lunch and slumps in his chair, resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder as the raven haired boy does some homework.

“School is _hard_ , Z,” Harry complains, slumping against Zayn. Zayn nudges Harry with his elbow, obviously annoyed by this boy interrupting his work.

“I know, Harry,” he answers absentmindedly, focused more on his homework than on Harry.

Ugh. Today sucks. Harry just wants attention. Niall and Liam approach the table and sit down opposite Harry and Zayn.

“Tough day?” Liam asks, his puppy dog eyes looking sympathetic. Harry likes Liam. Liam is nice.

“Tough week,” Harry corrects. He slumps further into Zayn’s bony and uncomfortable shoulder.

Suddenly, a familiar, nice-smelling weight drops into a chair on Harry’s left. “Hm, sucks,” Louis sympathizes upon sitting down. “Now, Zayn, off my boy.” There’s an odd note in Louis’ voice that Harry doesn’t recognize, and Harry furrows his eyebrows. Louis is never like this. Why does he care that Harry is resting against his friend, who is also in a committed relationship?

Whatever. Harry doesn’t dwell on that.

“He’s the one all up on me…” Zayn mutters, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. Harry scoots his chair closer to Louis and slumps against him instead, biting Louis’ shoulder playfully.

“You not eating, Hazza?” Louis asks. He looks down at Harry, and Harry can see in his eyes that Louis wants to kiss him more than anything right now, which definitely does not make him blush. Ha, who suggested that, am I right?

“Not hungry,” Harry responds. “‘M tired. School sucks.” He nuzzles into Louis’ shoulder.

Louis brushes his hand through Harry’s hair. “That’s alright, Curly, we’re already halfway through the week. You’ll make it.”

Harry smiles up at his boyfriend, who smiles back and leans forward a fraction before seeming to realize that, oh yeah. They’re in a room full of people. Louis clears his throat and looks down at his food. There's an odd, annoyed air about him that Harry feels for. Sometimes it's hard to hide a relationship.

“Hey, why’re you all nice to him?” Liam asks indignantly. “You’re never like that with us.”

The blue-eyed boy blushes. “Yeah, but, like. You guys suck. Harry… Harry also sucks. But, like. He’s good at it.”

It takes the boys a few moments to understand. When they do, Harry giggles and hides his face in Louis’ neck, while Zayn and Liam groan and Niall cackles.

“We did _not_  need to know that,” Liam grumbles, shaking his head at the two boys. Zayn nods, and Niall is still laughing his head off. Typical Niall.

***

As the rest of the week drags on, Harry gets more and more confused at Louis’ behavior.

The smaller boy has been pulling Harry off to the side to kiss more and more lately, so much that Harry is surprised they haven’t been caught. Louis has developed a habit of biting and sucking Harry’s neck and collarbones a lot, leaving lovebites littered across Harry’s skin. It’s to the point where Anne is noticing, glancing at Harry’s neck before giving him a knowing look and winking.

Aside from the makeout sessions and lovebites, Louis’ behavior around Harry has become increasingly odd. Every time Harry is being friendly with someone - leaning against them, playfully kissing his friends on the cheek, putting his arm around someone else, stuff like that - Louis gets all weird. He’ll glare at the other person or separate them, pull Harry closer to himself, or something of that sort.

And Harry’s not stupid, he knows Louis is being possessive and jealous, but it’s kind of weird. Louis _knows_  that Liam, Niall, Zayn, Nick, etc. are all just Harry’s friends. Harry is Louis’ boyfriend, for Christ’s sake. Harry doesn't get why he's being so jealous all the time.

Harry doesn’t say anything about it, however. He lets Louis be all possessive. After all, it is kind of cute. The fact that Louis only wants Harry to himself is flattering, it makes Harry smile, even if it does get weird sometimes.

The other thing is that Harry has started to get jealous of Liam and Zayn’s out-in-the-open relationship. Not that he doesn’t love his and Louis’ relationship, because Harry wouldn’t trade Louis for the world, but. Whenever Harry watches Liam kiss Zayn goodbye, or one of them call a casual “love you” over their shoulder to the other, Harry gets a burn of jealousy in his gut.

Which reminds Harry once again that he still hasn’t told Louis that he loves him, and he really should, but he’s scared. Scared of what could happen if Louis doesn’t love him back. It makes Harry shudder whenever he thinks of the possible outcomes of Louis’ hypothetical rejection.

At lunch the next Monday, Louis is sitting with his other friends while Harry, Niall, Liam, and Zayn sit at their own table together. They’re joking around for a bit, Niall’s arm thrown around Harry’s shoulders, when Zayn leans forward.

“Oy, Harry, are you dating Louis or Dracula?” he asks, inspecting Harry’s lovebite-littered neck. Liam and Niall laugh while Harry hides his face in his hands. Zayn continues, “I really cannot tell.”

“I hate you,” Harry lies, face warm and flushed underneath his hands. God, this is embarrassing.

“It’s alright, mate,” Niall assures. He smacks a sloppy, flippant kiss to Harry’s cheek, which, ew. Harry makes a grossed-out face and wipes it off.

“You’re disgusting,” he mutters. Just then, Harry’s eyes are covered by two hands.

“Guess who?” a voice that obviously belongs to Louis asks. A smiles spreads subconsciously over Harry's face like it always does when Louis touches him. Just to tease, Harry taps his chin in thought.

“Hmmmm…” he mock-ponders. “Let’s see… is it… Neil Patrick Harris?”

Louis scoffs, hands still over Harry’s eyes. “No, you dolt.”

“Oh, darn, looks like I don’t care, then,” Harry teases.

“He’s married, you perv!” Louis gasps. “He has children!”

Harry smiles, removing Louis’ hands from in front of his eyes and bringing them to his chest instead. He tilts his head back to look into Louis’ eyes and smiles.

“I knew it was you, I was just teasing you,” Harry assures.

Louis smiles. “Yeah. Well. Follow me?” He points to the door out of the lunch room hopefully, and Harry smiles. This boy will legitimately kill him with cuteness someday.

Harry follows Louis to a deserted hallway, where Louis looks around before pinning Harry to the wall behind him. The blue-eyed boy looks up lustfully at Harry, which makes heat pool in his gut.

“You’re mine,” he whispers before connecting their lips in a slow, dirty kiss. Oh, is that why he’s doing this? Because Niall playfully kissed Harry’s cheek?

Harry’s thoughts are stopped once Louis’ tongue licks slowly, so slowly, into Harry’s mouth, tracing along the backs of Harry’s teeth before sliding against Harry’s own tongue. It’s definitely one of their hottest kisses so far, not rushed or desperate but lustful and languid.

Louis draws Harry’s tongue into his mouth so that he can suck on it, almost lazily, making Harry’s dick twitch in his pants. They separate for a moment so that they can breathe, Louis’ hands cupping Harry’s cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” Louis whispers. Foreheads pressed together, the two boys just stare at each other for a moment. Harry’s heart is racing with how much he loves this boy. He wraps his arms around Louis’ slim waist, hugging him close.

The two boys kiss each other for a little while longer before the bell rings signalling the end of lunch hour. Harry separates from Louis, running his hands down the smaller boy’s sides and stealing a few more kisses.

“See you in history, love,” Louis smiles, pressing one final lingering kiss to Harry’s forehead before turning on his heel and walking off. And, well. Louis has never called Harry 'love' before, and though it doesn't imply that Louis loves him back, Harry is left so happy that he might explode.

***

On Thursday is when it happens.

Harry, Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn are all sitting at their shared lunch table, chatting amiably with each other and generally having a good time. Louis’ hand is curled possessively around Harry’s thigh under the table, and his warm touch is making Harry feel light and happy.

“You know what I’ve realized?” Liam asks, directing his words at Harry.

 

Harry furrows his brow. “What?”

“Harry and I have never hung out outside of school,” Liam states. Which. He’s right. Huh. “Like, I’ve hung out with the rest of you, but never Harry.”

Harry attempts to bite down his grin as Louis playfully spider-walks his fingers up and down his thigh underneath the table. Instead, he focuses his attention to Liam. “True. We should.”

“You should come over to my house on Saturday,” Liam suggests. He smirks. “Netflix and chill.” [A/N: if you don't understand, this is like the teenage-boy equivalent of asking to have sex.]

The implication of the words - Liam is just kidding, of course - sets in and Harry laughs, missing the way Louis’ fingers tighten around his leg. “Right, then,” Harry says, still smiling. “It’s a date.”

This time, he doesn’t miss it when Louis digs his blunt fingernails into Harry’s thigh through the denim of his tight jeans, can’t miss the way Louis leans over and whispers, “I need to talk to you.”

“Okay?” Harry up-talks. Brow furrowed, he allows Louis to lead him to a wall away from the other tables but still in the lunch room. His mind is racing with things that might happen. Has Louis lost his feelings for Harry? Is he going to break up with Harry? Oh, shit. Fuck. Harry’s heart rate speeds up.

“What is it?” he asks weakly when Louis turns to face him. The expression on Louis’ pretty face is determined and stern, which makes Harry’s throat tighten a little.

“Don’t hang out with Liam this weekend,” Louis commands. And, what? Is this some weird way of breaking up with Harry? Will Louis separate Harry from his friends before he separates Harry from himself, to eliminate future pain? Harry’s stomach turns a little.

“What?” he asks, voice strained. He swallows before asking, “Why?”  
  


Louis sighs. “Because,” he states. “He was flirting with you. I don’t like it.”

No. All of Harry’s angst turns to annoyance. For Christ’s sake, Louis and Liam are best mates! Liam is in love with Zayn! _You know what?_   Harry’s brain thinks. _This jealous shit is getting out of hand._

Harry takes a moment to organize his words before calmly saying, “Louis.” The smaller boy just looks at Harry, waiting for him to go on. Harry continues, “You and Liam are _best mates_. Do you really think he’d try to make a move on me? We weren’t even flirting, anyways. We were just joking around as _friends_.”

“I don’t care, Harry!” Louis responds, his voice more raised than normal and sounding strained. Harry has a surge of sympathy and adoration for the boy, though he’s not sure why. Damn it, he’s supposed to be mad at Louis! Stupid feelings. “I don’t want Liam being all ‘Netflix and chill’ with you! You’re mine, damn it!”

Honestly, Harry doesn’t care that the tables closest to them can probably hear the boys’ conversation. He’s annoyed at Louis’ over-possessiveness. It’s not normal, and as much as Harry loves Louis, it’s out of hand.

Raising his voice a little above the previous volume of Louis’, Harry almost-yells, “Louis, for Christ’s sake, he’s in love with Zayn! He would never try anything with me! And even if he did, I wouldn’t let him! So just chill out, okay?” He’s almost hysterical by now, all of the bottled-up annoyance from the past week or so just rushing out of him too quickly.

“I know!” Louis yells. Almost the whole cafeteria can hear them - and are watching - by now, but Louis either doesn’t know or doesn’t care. “Jesus, I know, I just only want you to be mine!”

Harry hears various gasps and whispers spreading throughout the room, but he doesn’t care. He crosses his arms defensively over his chest and looking down at Louis, who looks angry and terrifying and _God_ , Harry would be scared if he wasn’t so annoyed himself.

“Louis, we’re just friends, me and Liam! You’re acting like a prick whenever I talk to anyone! Anyone, Lou! Why do you keep acting so - so weird?”

Louis clenches his fists by his sides and yells, loudly, “Because I’m in love with you, you idiot!”

Already prepared with an answer, Harry gets ready to yell back when he realizes what Louis just said. The whole room is dead silent, so much so that when Harry drops his arms limply to his sides, he can hear the swish of fabric against his skin loud and clear.

Harry’s heart completely stops for a few moments. His breathing cuts out and he can’t move anymore, can’t blink, can’t even form coherent thoughts at that moment. All he processes is the way that Louis’ eyes widen to the size of golf balls, cheeks going pale at the realization of what he just said.

Louis. Louis loves Harry.

Louis Tomlinson, football captain, hot guy, popular bloke everyone likes, is in love with Harry, flower boy and dorky gay kid who nobody really seems to care about. This is. Wow.

“You… you love me?” Harry whispers quietly before he even knows what he’s about to say. All of his limbs are numb, and if it weren’t for the unbelievable silence of the cafeteria, nobody would’ve ever been able to hear him.

The beautiful, beautiful blue eyed boy swallows audibly, looks down at the grounds and hides behind a curtain of fringe before nodding slowly.

“I didn’t mean to - I get it if it’s too early,” Louis whispers, barely audible over the buzz in Harry’s numb ears. “I just… I love you, Harry. I’m sorry.”

The last few words sounds a little choked up, and suddenly Harry remembers how to move again. he rushes up to his boy, cupping Louis’ cheeks in his hands and tilting his face up.

In that moment, the whole world disappears. The cafeteria has vanished, no longer anywhere to be seen. Harry and Louis’ friends are gone, forgotten, lost in the electricity between the two boys. Their previous fight is forgotten, Harry doesn’t care about that anymore. The Earth, the air, gravity, _everything_ vanishes, forever lost in those few moments where Louis and Harry’s eyes meet, blue staring into green. Harry has never been more sure of how much he loves this boy.

Harry draws a shaky breath, can’t really believe that this is happening. “I… I love you too Louis. I love you more than anything. I’ve been in love with you since we went to that movie together, when you were crying and I had you in my arms. I love you so, so much.”

“R-really?” Louis asks, his expression hopeful and nervous as he stares into Harry’s eyes, breath bated and cheeks warm underneath Harry’s hands.

“Yes, oh my God yes,” Harry whispers. They stand there, looking into each other’s eyes and just relishing the moment, before a yell rings out in the still-silent room.

“Just kiss him!” the person yells, and Harry recognizes it as one of Louis’ friends. He turns to look at the people watching their encounter, sees nothing but hopeful eyes and bated breath, as if everyone can’t wait to see the two kiss. Well, almost everyone. There are a few girls who look a little grossed out (probably Louis’ previous fucks), but Harry doesn’t care.

He gazes back into Louis’ twinkling blue eyes, which have teared up a bit. Harry has never seen anything more beautiful. “May I?”

Louis shakes his head, whispering, “Kiss me, you fool.”

And then they’re kissing. They’re kissing, for the whole junior year to see, for everyone to look at and witness and Harry has never felt more alive. Their kiss is short, nothing but a few closed-mouth pecks, but Harry loves it more than anything in the world. The two boys are officially out. They’re out and it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, whether they approve of their relationship or not, because this is Harry and Louis’ love story. This is the story of two boys who finally got their shit together. This is the story of Louis and Harry, two boys who fell in love thanks to a history project.

“I fucking love you,” Harry whispers when they separate, resting their foreheads together and ignoring their gawking classmates.

“I love you too, Flower Boy,” Louis answers. “And I won’t let you forget it.”

 **  
** Harry has always loved stories with a happy ending.

**Author's Note:**

> That's all folks!
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this story, and I'd love to give a huge thanks to anyone who has stayed with me through the mess that is this fic.
> 
> Anyway, leave kudos and comment telling me whether or not you liked this! It's my first fic I've ever published, so I hope I didn't screw it up too bad. I love you all very much and I hope you like the way that I wrote this. That's all. Goodbye for now ((:


End file.
